C'est Toi, C'est Moi
by bijoukaiba
Summary: The summer of 1987 is drawing to a close, and Jeremy Fitzgerald needs a job - or two - to make it through college. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza doesn't exactly seem like the coolest place to work, but Jeremy doesn't have much of a reputation for being cool anyway. But the friendships he forges? Unbreakable. The memories he makes? Unforgettable. Falling in love? Indescribable.
1. Meet the Faz-Heir

_**C'est Toi, C'est Moi**_

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon.**_

**Also features some OCs and my own interpretations of the characters and plot events that may or may not be canon depending on the story of any potential FNAF games in the future. That's what fanfiction is for.**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 1: Meet the Faz-Heir**

_August 3, 1987_

Whitney Houston's voice on the radio faded out as Jeremy Fitzgerald parked his Ford Escort. He was just a fairly ordinary college student who would've been starting his junior year... if money had allowed it.

It might not have been a major university, but college still demands tuition, and Jeremy was finally reaching the last of his money alotted to him by a few scholarships and prepaid funding that had been saved up during his childhood. He had decided to take a year off from classes, figuring that it wouldn't hurt his biology major too much, in order to focus on saving up money.

And sure enough, at the far reaches of the town, at what was practically an abandoned strip mall, some kind of kid-friendly diner known as "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" was preparing to open in a few days. A day job here, and a night job possibly as a waiter, and he would be able to live "comfortably" in his apartment as his college fund climbed again.

One of the benefits of working here was one free meal per day, so being given the bare minimum wage couldn't be too bad. Now he just hoped his wild brown hair wouldn't have to be cut in order to meet the dress code standards... he really liked that fluffiness.

As he walked up to the building, he peered through his glasses at several other cars that had been parked outside, suggesting that Jeremy wasn't the only one coming in for a job interview today.

A decal of the smiling mascot greeted him with a printed "Welcome!" on the door's window, and Jeremy stepped inside.

"Here for the interview?" asked the man in a goldenrod polo shirt standing near the door. He appeared middle-aged, plump, and had brown hair swept to one side with an odd gray hair or two.

"Yes, sir," Jeremy confirmed, extending a hand. "I'm Jeremy Fitzgerald."

"Nice to meet you. The name's Frank Fazari, I'm the manager of this establishment." **(1)**

"Faz...?" Jeremy's voice started to trail off, but Frank shook his head.

"No, no, I'm just a manager. My older brother is the one who started the business. Even gave me a position as manager out of the 'kindness' of his heart," Frank explained, his voice turning bitter at the end. "So, I guess I should take you over to meet the other recruits, huh? All right, it's over here to the left in the main area."

He stepped through the doorway, leading him into a much larger room decorated with the same checkerboard tile. The actual renovations of the building were probably done, with colorful wallpaper decorating the walls and posters of the franchise's characters scattered everywhere. Five round wooden tables had been set up, already with a number of people seated around each of them.

"Just take a seat wherever you want," Frank stated, before walking off towards what appeared to be the stage.

Jeremy meandered over toward one of the tables in the middle, where the five people seated stared back at him silent and practically expressionless. No room for him here, he supposed.

"Hello, hello!" a friendly voice called out to him. Jeremy turned around, a young man waving his left hand at him. "Hey, uh... if you need a seat, we've got an empty spot here!"

"Thank you," Jeremy replied quietly, taking the seat between the guy who had called him over and a girl with curly blonde hair.

"TESTING? TES... okay, yeah, it's on," Frank stated into the mic on stage, lowering his volume. "Okay, so... shoot, I should have brought the script... okay. Listen up. We, or rather, Fazbear Entertainment, recently made an investment in a family dining business... and now they're shooting for - er, no - they're _trying to _make the business more family-friendly. Or family-friendl_ier_, especially with kids."

"He really should've brought that script, huh?" muttered a different girl at Jeremy's table. Her skin had a faint olive tone and her hair was a lovely dark color, like ebony. Another young man at the table, who appeared to be Hispanic, looked silently over at her and back at Frank onstage, his brows furrowed slightly.

"So, that is where you, the potential future employees of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza come in. Um, our CEO, Federico Fazari, believes that teamwork and support is essential in reaching one's goals. There's no 'i' in 'team', as the saying goes. So, we've decided we'll work with everyone in, uh, team units and figure out what you're good at, and if I like what I see, then I'll hire you. There was probably some better way on deciding teams, but... I think it would just be easier to have you teamed up with the people you're seated with. So, just take a few minutes to introduce yourself to everyone, talk about what position you're aiming for, and whatever else you're supposed to talk about in ice-breakers like this."

The room grew louder as everyone began chatting and introducing themselves.

"Sheesh, they make it seem like it's some kind of summer camp," the same girl from earlier remarked, rolling her eyes. Blonde girl, on the other hand, was eager to start, her curls springing wildly as she bounced up out of her seat.

"Okay! Can I go first?" she asked, looking around at everyone at the table. "All right! My name's Sophia Baldwin, I'm nineteen, and I'm getting this job to help pay for college, probably like a lot of you guys."

She laughed, as did the friendly guy from earlier. Jeremy exchanged a smile with the Hispanic guy seated across from him.

"Um, but to be more specific, I'm hoping to earn a degree in nursing. I really like the idea of helping people, so I want to get a spot on 'The Crew' as part of the first aid unit. Aaand just to throw in a silly summer camp answer, my favorite character at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is Chica!" she took her seat, looking over at Jeremy. "Come on, your turn!"

"Oh! Uh, sure..." he stood up, looking around at the others.

"Hi, I'm Jeremy Fitzgerald. I'm twenty-one and I'm... taking a year off from college to save up some money. I'm majoring in biology right now. I don't really know what kind of job I'd take here... I'm kind of in the same boat as you, Sophia, in that I'd like to make people happy... so maybe just some kind of supervisor to make sure parties are going okay? And, uh, favorite character... um... I think there was some kind of pirate, like a coyote? He seems pretty cool. Uh... whoever wants to go next can go ahead."

Jeremy sat back down. Sophia had already nudged the girl next to her, who sighed heavily, but stood up with a resigned smile.

"Hi, everyone. My name's Heather Carras, and I'm twenty-three. I actually already have my degree... my major was engineering... but I really want to pursue grad school. So I'm also saving up money for college. I'm technically already working here, though, as I'm taking part in an internship by helping assemble the animatronics. Too bad it wasn't a _paid_ internship. I don't really know what kind of job I'd get here, I just want something that preferably isn't janitor work or sitting inside one of those stuffy costumes for an hour while kids kick you in the knee."

She started to sit back down, but Sophia stopped her.

"Nooo...! You have to say which one's your favorite!"

She let out a long sigh.

"Okay, fine. Uhh... well, based on some of the party scripts I've seen programmed into their audio files... it kind of sounds like Bonnie is supposed to be some kind of rock-and-roll scientist... so he seems pretty okay."

Heather took her seat, and Sophia was already eagerly pointing at the Hispanic guy at the table.

"C'mon, you too!" she insisted cheerfully. He shook his head, chewing on his lip. "... Are you okay? We won't make fun of you."

When her tone softened, he relaxed a little, finally standing up.

"Don't speak English a lot. Sorry," he explained, speaking slowly. "My name is Ronaldo Sanchez. Nice to meet you. I am from Costa Rica, and I speak Spanish. I am twenty years."

He paused, worriedly looking around, but everyone nodded encouragingly. He smiled sheepishly.

"I am in English classes, and I need money. Then I get a good job and more money. I know... my English is bad. So, I cook food, I speak less. Or... ... _disfraz_," he pantomimed putting a large item on his head and waving hello. The confused looks at the table gave way to little "ohhh"s of understanding.

He started to sit down, but once again, Sophia quickly stopped him.

"Who is your favorite character? Or, um, wait... think Spanish... um... _kay_. _An-ee-muhl_. _Fay-vo-ree-to_?" she asked with terrible mispronunciation. "I think I said that right?"

"¿Animal?" he asked. "_El oso..._ brown."

"You mean Freddy!" Sophia chirped. "... okay, Ronaldo! Then that just leaves you, mister!"

"I guess so!" the last guy at the table replied, standing up.

"Hello, hello! Uh, my name's Phil... and I actually already have a job here. We, uh, we were open briefly, but wanted to take care of some... renovations. Fazbear Entertainment really wanted to invest in improving the image of the restaurant after some rumors started flying around... and with business being closed, a lot of employees flocked to find different jobs since they couldn't wait around for their money, so we ended up having to do a lot of rehiring..." his voice trailed off as he noticed the way Heather narrowed her eyes and twisted her lips. "... Uh, is something wrong, Heather?"

"What's your real name, Phil?" she asked. "You seem really professional, and yet you skipped out on giving your full name. Unless... you're nervous about the impression people will have of you? It's okay, I already figured it out, so you don't have to worry about said impression."

"Uh..." he was left absolutely flabbergasted.

"Impression?" Sophia asked.

"What, you haven't heard the rumors? Aside from the ghost story ones, I mean... those are for middle schoolers," Heather asked, leaning back in her seat, folding her arms behind her head.

"Ghost stories?!" Sophia gasped.

"They're- they're just dumb rumors!" Phil snapped.

"The real interesting rumor... is that apparently the son of the CEO works at one of the restaurants. And considering the franchise is still pretty small... there's only a few possible places he could be working at."

The pieces slowly fell into place as Jeremy turned back to Phil, his jaw hanging slightly open.

"Uh, heh, yeah. Let me start over. Uh, my name's Phil _Fazari_, and I'm twenty-one years old. And, yeah, my father is Federico Fazari, CEO of Fazbear Entertainment."

"But..." Sophia appeared saddened by this revelation. "If your dad's a CEO, how come you're stuck working minimum wage at a place like this?"

"To be fair, I've had my job for a few years, so I've gotten a raise or two over the years. I work as a general supervisor, though I have hosted a few parties, and I'm currently being reviewed for a management position. My parents were kind of divided on how they wanted to raise me... I'm an only child, you see. My dad was the one who liked to spoil me and give me really nice gifts... my mom argued that I needed more discipline and that I should be independent. So, they met in the middle and decided that I had to start taking care of myself once I got into college. Of course, my dad kind of bent the rules and made sure I could land a job at the first Fazbear Pizzeria... and he got me a car for my twentieth birthday... oh, uh, sorry, I kind of started rambling, huh?" Phil cleared his throat. "My major is currently undeclared... though I have taken a lot of business and communications classes. That just about wraps it u- oh, right! My favorite character is Foxy."

Phil took his seat as his uncle returned to the stage.

"Now that that's out of the way, we'll start touring the facility. For example, this - " Frank waved his arms around. " - is the major attraction area. We're going to have animatronics installed on stage to entertain the children, but they have surprisingly advanced AI for our time - they're going to be able to walk around and interact with the kids! We've also got some games along the southern side of the room - skee ball, Whac-A-Mole, that sort of thing - for kids to earn tickets and exchange them for prizes in the corner over there."

Frank hopped down from the stage, walking across the room to a doorway into a room with pastel paint decorating the walls.

"This is going to be the area meant for the younger kids, with a smaller ball pit and playground. The running name we have going for it is just the 'Kids' Cove', since that sounds better than just 'the toddler area'. And over to the left is more of the behind the scenes stuff, namely the kitchen and first aid station, but most of you probably aren't looking for that sort of work," he looked around the room. "Come on, everyone out of your seats, there's more than just this room!"

Everyone exchanged looks and stood up from their tables, following Frank down the hallway.

"Sooo..." Sophia's voice trailed off, playfully walking into Phil's side, bumping him slightly. "What was your childhood like, then? Did your dad buy you lots of toys?"

"Yeah."

"Does that mean your mom was the one buying the books?" Heather added with a chuckle.

"...Yeah," Phil sighed.

"All right, up ahead is the room where we keep the spare parts for the animatronics," Frank announced, pointing to the door with several large signs on it. "We wanted to wait to assemble the animatronics when we had more active staff members available. Just to keep an eye on them during the first few days."

'NO CHILDREN', 'NO GUESTS', 'PARTS AND SUPPLIES', 'EMPLOYEES ONLY', 'HAZARDOUS EQUIPMENT' - all the signs were bright orange or yellow, their letters printed out in all caps and in black to really send the message home that this was not a place for the general public.

It kind of left Jeremy feeling rattled but insatiably curious. As Frank started to lead the others down the left hallway, he quietly approached the door, turning the knob. It gave way, and he slowly opened the door. Two bulging white eyes stared back at him from the dark depths of the room, and oh _god did he just see some flashy metal teeth grin at him_-

Jeremy yelped, trying to close the door as he fell backwards, trying to get away from _the thing_, and he probably would have crashed onto the floor had Phil and Heather not caught him first.

"Whoa, easy there!" Phil tried to reassure, looking down at Jeremy. "Why'd you go wandering off from the group?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Heather commented, before realizing what room they were standing in front of. "... Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

She chuckled slightly, releasing her hold on Jeremy. Phil stumbled to keep him off the ground, shooting a glare at Heather, as he heaved to pull Jeremy upright in one motion. As Jeremy caught his balance, he flinched as Heather swung the door wide open, turning on the lights in the room. It seemed as though the bulging eyes and metallic teeth belonged to some kind of purple rabbit leaning upright against the wall.

"It's _Bonnie_! He's an animatronic nerdy bunny rabbit, and you're scared of _him_?" she asked. "Foxy looks way more spooky, yet he's somehow your favorite? What is up with that, Jim?"

"It's _Jeremy_. And I didn't see the whole costume... just the eyes and the teeth in the dark..." he argued, a small pout on his face.

Heather rolled her eyes, swinging the door shut behind her, the force strong enough to create a sweeping gust of air. Everyone visibly cringed, and Phil gagged briefly.

"Huele a muerte," Ronaldo commented with a frown, his hand pinched over his nose.

"If you said that it stinks... I agree," Sophia wheezed with a cough.

"That's part of what sparked the ghost stories," Heather remarked, sneering.

"The ghost stories..." Sophia's face paled. "You're not suggesting - "

"That is _not_ what happened!" Phil started to argue.

"What is going on here?!" Frank walked up to the five of them.

"Uncle - I mean, Mr. Fazari," Phil cleared his throat. "Uh, we were... I was just leading everyone back to the tour. We got a little side-tracked."

"I'll say! You'll never land a management position if you keep getting distracted. Now get moving!"

Phil shifted his eyes to the floor with a small frown, walking quietly with the others back to the main group.

"Sorry about the _interruption_," Frank apologized loudly. "We have four rooms here, two on each side of the hall, that will be rented out for private parties. They're all basically the same, but go ahead and look around them if you so desire."

The bottoms of Phil's shoes scuffed against the tile floor as he swiftly walked into one of the rooms, hands in his pockets and arms tightly tucked against his body.

"Hey, Phil..." he turned at the sound of his name, to see that Jeremy had followed him into the room. "Hey... are you okay?"

He sighed, relaxing his arms and shoulders.

"I'll be okay... just gotta take a few deep breaths, you know?" Phil took a deep breath for emphasis. "My uncle's probably just stressed out from all this renovating and rehiring we have to do. He's all alone as manager, so once some assistants have been hired, he'll probably lighten up a bit... uh, although that might mean _I'll_ be the one stressed out if I land the spot in management."

He smiled wryly.

"Hard to believe he's my dad's brother and not my mom's. I-I mean, she's hard on me, but she's not _mean_ about it. That's not what I meant to say. I probably shouldn't, uh, say stuff like that. It's just... even outside of the family business, my uncle and I never really got along."

Phil scowled and for a brief moment, Jeremy considered asking him to elaborate, but Phil straightened up again with a smile.

"B-but hey, when we're at work, we leave our family troubles at the door... outside... n-never mind. I'll just, uh, try to keep it out of my mind," Phil started to say with a smile, but it faltered. "So, Jeremy, you want to supervise parties?"

"Uh... yeah," he confirmed. It felt like Phil had mostly been talking to himself, so he was surprised that the conversation had turned back to him. "I have a younger sister who's going to start eighth grade in a few weeks, so I'm familiar with babysitting and watching kids. I can handle playing for hours and cleaning up after them."

"Well, that's just one kid. Now imagine parties of four, ten - one time, I had _eighteen_ - kids showing up," Phil stated. Jeremy whistled in amazement, which made him chuckle. "Yeah, you, uh, wouldn't believe some of the things I've been through. A little over two years ago, I was hosting a birthday party among eleven kids. The party atmosphere was admittedly kind of exciting, because it was late June, so it was only a week or two before my own birthday. Well, I wound up getting excited for nothing, heh. There was a fight over a party game, cake was thrown, a kid got punched in the gut and threw up pizza all over the carpet - part of why we switched to a tile floor for easier cleaning - and... and one kid even bit me."

"Yikes," Jeremy murmured, wincing at the thought of it.

"Everything worked out, though... I mean, it didn't hurt and it didn't draw blood, so that- that was good. Actually, one of the employees in-costume at the time came in and helped me out. I felt kind of bad for the kids... they got so excited to see Freddy, but instead he had to break character and just silently lead the five troublemakers, including 'Bitey', out... probably to give them a proper timeout. But one of the parents felt bad and tipped me extra, so, hey, I guess it all turned out okay."

Jeremy laughed nervously, looking at his arms.

"It was only one bite, Jeremy," Phil reassured. "It was a one-time thing. If you're good with kids too, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Yeah..." Jeremy looked up at him with a smile. "Thanks."

At that moment, Sophia poked her head into the room.

"Psst! Guys!" she hissed. "We're gathering in the main hall again... might want to catch up!"

"Oh, uh, right!" Phil agreed, heading out with Jeremy.

"And finally, down here at the end of the hall is the security office. Usually someone just sits at the desk until - I mean, _unless_ - something goes wrong... but we shouldn't have that problem anymore. You see, I wasn't kidding about those new animatronics having impressive AI. They're going to have facial recognition capabilities, and these sensors are going to be tied into a criminal database. Impressive, huh?"

Heather nodded soundly at this statement.

"All right, then..." Frank checked his watch. "It's getting close to one, so how about we take a break for one of those free lunches, and then we'll start filling out paperwork?"

There was a collective mix of groans and cheers as everyone returned to the dining area. Frank and a few of the returning kitchen staff stepped into the kitchen as everyone took their seats and chatted.

"Please tell me the pizza's good," Jeremy prayed, taking a seat with his 'teammates'.

"Well... the kids certainly like it! So, you never know, maybe you'll like it too!" Phil offered with a shrug.

"... stuff sucks," Heather murmured under her breath.

Phil glared at her as one of the staff members passed around five purple paper plates with a slice of cheese pizza to everyone at the table.

"Well... here's to us hopefully getting jobs!" Phil toasted, lifting his slice with one hand.

Jeremy and the others lifted their pizzas in a toast as well, before the five of them took a bite out of the pizza. Fluent English may not have been a common language between them, but groans of displeasure and twisted faces certainly was.

For oven-fresh pizza, it had turned to room temperature by the time it arrived to the table, which didn't help the flavor or texture at all. The cheese was somehow greasy and rubbery at the same time, the crust could be compared to a slab of cardboard, and the sauce was the only thing with flavor, in the sense that it was just... 'there', it didn't really have a defined flavor.

"Hard to believe I used to think pizza like this was the best in grade school," Sophia laughed pitifully.

"Well, I gotta get used to it," Jeremy sighed, finishing off another bite. "One of the reasons I came looking for this job was the free meal to help lighten my budget."

"... Same," replied Sophia and Heather.

"Same?" Ronaldo asked. "Same... what?"

"If you work here - " Phil paused to pantomime wiping a table and sweeping the floor. "You get two free slices of pizza..." he held up two fingers and pointed at the slice on his plate. "... You know, free? You do not pay money?" He removed his wallet from his pocket and shook his head.

"No money? Oh, that's good," Ronaldo nodded with a chuckle. "Not much pizza, not good pizza, but not paying is good."

The five brave young adults finished their pizza, and stomachs full yet unsatisfied, disposed of their plates. Like factory rotation, they returned to their seats to find several pencils and a few pages of paperwork stapled together at each of their seats.

"After that... filling... lunch, we'll conclude today with filling out the actual job applications," Frank explained as many of the recruits started looking over their paperwork. "Just check off the positions you want, and we'll review your performance as the week goes on."

With that in mind, Jeremy started filling out his application, speeding through the identification section. Name? Jeremy Fitzgerald. Date of birth? May 5, 1966. The address of his apartment, his home phone number, education, this was all stuff he already knew.

_Check off the positions you would like to apply for._ He didn't have enough experience for management... and a tiny part of him hoped that having less applicants for management might help Phil get the job.

Let's see... party supervision? Sure. Receptionist? Why not. Cashier, janitor, kitchen, prize counter, first aid, gameroom monitor... he probably checked off at least ten boxes before moving on to the next section. The typical 'what experience do you have', 'what can you bring to the company'... and a curious third question. He paused to wipe his glasses, just in case he had read the question wrong, but sure enough...

_How good are you at dispelling rumors?_

Jeremy wiggled the pencil between his thumb and index finger, tapping it against his cheek a few times as he pondered his answer.

_Pretty good. I am capable of doing effective research and thinking logically. I consider myself to be an organized person, so I would not get any facts mixed up._

He smiled as his pencil moved across the paper. Yes, that was sure to impress. A few minutes later, he was done. Like the few other employees who had left before him - one of them being Heather - he walked up and handed in his application before leaving.

Stepping outside, he was greeted by the sunny blue sky of another summer day. As he put up his hand to shield his eyes, he heard Heather's voice.

"Hey, Geronimo!"

"... It's _Jeremy_. What is it?"

She tried to conceal a playful smile by biting her lip.

"Not much. Just enjoying the sunshine. Just because I love technology doesn't mean I don't appreciate nature too. What about you, Mister Bio Major?"

"Same goes for me... except for that one lab where we walked over to the local lake and compared the number of trees with moss to determine what growing conditions were best. It was the most boring lab ever AND I got covered in mosquito bites! So that's one thing I probably wouldn't miss if I worked with technology like you."

"You're right, no mosquito bites... we get electrocuted," she teased, Jeremy's eyes widening in horror. "As long as you aren't working with anything too powerful, it isn't too bad. Just the little -_jump!- _of fright you get when you get zapped and maybe a small burn. One time, I actually got a pretty nasty zap and I think it must have messed with my hearing because I swear I hear a tiny bit better out of my left ear than my right."

"Oh... oh, well, _that explains a lot_," Jeremy half-mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

At that moment, Phil came walking out of the pizzeria with his hands tucked in his pockets and a smile on his face.

"That wasn't too bad for the first day of the recruiting process," he commented. "Now we have the whole afternoon off! Better enjoy it while we can, huh, since that's going to end when we get those jobs, y'know?"

"That's true..." Jeremy admitted.

Heather took a deep breath and shrugged.

"All right. I'm gonna head back to my apartment, maybe watch TV for a little while, get a good nap... something. I'll see you guys later," she stated, starting to walk further into the parking lot.

At the same time, Sophia and Ronaldo walked out of the pizzeria together with frowns - Sophia's in anger, Ronaldo's in sorrow.

"Uh, hey, everything okay?" Phil asked.

"No!" Sophia snapped, causing Phil to step back. "I thought Ronaldo might need help with his application - and he did - so I showed him what to check off and what to write, and Mr. Fazari snapped at us! Like... it's not a test, it's not like it was cheating!"

"Uncle..." Phil muttered under his breath, letting out a long sigh. "I'm sorry about that, Ronaldo. You too, Sophia."

"So, the two of us - " Sophia hooked her arm with Ronaldo's. "... are going to head down to the bookstore and get pocket dictionaries so we can communicate easier! Don't worry, Ronaldo, we're going to get you that job!"

He smiled and nodded. Some things didn't need translating.

The two of them left together, leaving Jeremy and Phil standing around outside.

"So..." Phil's voice trailed off, breaking the awkward silence. "What about you? Do you live in a dorm, or some kind of apartment?"

"I have an apartment, but I don't think I'm going to head back quite yet," Jeremy replied. "I was planning on filling out a few more job applications, since I'll probably need a second job."

"What kind of job are you looking for?"

"Maybe a cashier or bagger at Picnix, or a waiter at The Bird and Barb," Jeremy answered, waving his hand around in idle circles.

"Ah, okay! I'm... probably just gonna follow Heather's example and head back to my apartment as well," Phil stated with a sheepish grin.

"Best wishes with the management spot," Jeremy offered, extending a hand to shake. Phil forced a small laugh, looking at his hand uncomfortably, before finally extending his left hand.

"Pardon the, uh, left-handed shake," Phil apologized. He moved his right arm, shifting it out of his pocket, only to reveal that his arm ended at the wrist.

"Oh, sh-shoot, I'm sorry, I didn't - I never noticed - " Jeremy stammered, switching to his left hand to shake with Phil.

"I know they say shaking with the left hand is bad luck, but I can't help it, you know? Besides, it's all just dumb superstitions... I mean, I've made it this far, right?" he affirmed.

"That's a good way of thinking," Jeremy agreed.

_Better than Heather's way_, Phil thought to himself, as he nodded.

"So..." Jeremy kicked the toe of his shoe against the pavement a few times. "This has been an unusual first day of interviews and recruiting - "

"Yeah, right? We're just trying to pick staff in a way that we get the best individuals and the best teamwork among them. Like seeing the trees or seeing the forest, but doing both at... the same...? Where am I going with this..."

"About that, um, I was really happy to meet you, and Sophia, and Ronaldo and Heather and all, but... I should probably head over to Picnix and B&B for those other job applications."

"Good idea, you definitely need a job, no matter where it is."

"I agree, and that's kind of why I need to get, uh, going," Jeremy glanced down from Phil's eyes to their hands several times in rapid succession. "Kind of like now, maybe."

"Oh, right!" Phil released his hand.

"Don't get too attached, in case I don't get the job here," Jeremy warned with a smile, starting to head for his Ford.

"Just because you don't get the job doesn't mean you can't stop by and see your friends every so often," Phil teased. "Besides, why wouldn't you get the job? You seem competent enough to handle kids. What's stopping you?"

Jeremy paused in his steps, looking back at Phil.

"I just... well... uh, forget it. No. No, you're right, there's nothing stopping me," he restated, but spoke with renewed determination. "Everything they need to know about me is on that paper, and that's all they need to see."

He managed a smile, waving to Phil one last time before jogging off to his car. As Phil slid into the driver's seat of his own car - a Mercury Sable in a shade of cool blue - he took a deep breath. He had only known Jeremy for a day, yet somehow he already trusted him. And the other three friends he had made today. Trust shouldn't be given out so easily - he had learned that at _the previous location_ - but he tried to be optimistic, and the five of them were just young kids anyway, with their whole lives ahead of them.

Four more days at Freddy's, and the real challenge would begin.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**(1) It turns out there's actually a restaurant called "Fazari's Cucina", and it's also a pizzeria. I was just trying to pick out an Italian last name starting with 'Faz', so that was nothing more than pure coincidence.**

**Side Note: I looked through various theories regarding timelines and there was one that I really liked that will be used as the basis for the plot in this story. I am not saying the name of the person who wrote this theory since, obviously, that would entail spoilers. There is a minor discrepancy with it, possibly minor enough that future game(s?) may retcon it, but since we are still awaiting more information regarding the game's backstory, I hope you will be understanding if any plot holes or discrepancies happen. One thing I have seen the FNAF fandom get into fights over is theories (especially the prequel vs sequel idea). I do my research to the best of my abilities to write as accurately as possible, but human error is inescapable.**

**Please keep that in mind before you say something like "You forgot about what it said in The Living Tombstone's song!" This is going to be relying on game canon (aka not any songs, videos, creepypastas, etc. made by fans) and theories regarding it.**


	2. Four Days at Freddy's

_**C'est Toi, C'est Moi**_

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon. Also features my OCs and some character and plot interpretations that may not be canon based on future games.**_

_**WARNING: This chapter contains brief self-harm and references to homophobia, including the use of a slur.**_

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 2: Four Days at Freddy's**

_August 4, 1987_

"Good morning, Ronaldo!" Phil greeted at the door, clutching a clipboard close with his right arm. "Ready for another day?"

Ronaldo held up his pocket dictionary with one hand, patting it with the other.

"Ready," he affirmed with a smile.

As a potential candidate for management - so far the only one, it seemed - Phil was taking on one of the various duties of being assistant manager - filling in at any empty position, such as the greeter.

"Just head to the main area, like we did yesterday," Phil instructed, gesturing to the left. "... Heather and Sophia are already here."

Ronaldo beamed and headed towards the large room.

As he left, Phil checked the box beside "Sanchez, R." on the attendance sheet on the clipboard. There were only three recruits unaccounted for now, one of them being Jeremy. Had he been too weirded out by him to come back? Phil tucked the pen behind his ear, switching the clipboard over to his left arm, and agitatedly stuffing the end of his right arm into his pocket.

The clock on the wall indicated it was 10:25, meaning they were five minutes away from starting the session for the day. He turned at the sound of the door opening, as two recruits walked in together - Bradley Fowler and Andrea Owens - and Phil marked them off.

"Jeremy..." he muttered between his teeth. "... Where are you?"

As the clock turned to 10:28, Jeremy came running through the door.

"Note to self," Jeremy panted, bent over with his hands on his knees. "Leave five minutes earlier next time."

"Jeremy," Phil repeated with a sigh of relief. "You really cut it close! You should know that doesn't look good when you're applying - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." Jeremy replied, as he finished catching his breath, before looking at Phil. "... Sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you. You're right."

"It's okay... I did kind of sound bossy. Almost like my... uncle. A-and I don't want to be like that," Phil asserted, as he marked Jeremy's name off the list. "Come on, we'll want to grab our seats."

The two of them walked into the main area, where - sure enough - Sophia was already waving them over, Heather and Ronaldo seated on either side of her.

"Hey, what's with the stage?" Jeremy asked, pointing at the closed curtains, as he took a seat between Heather and Phil. "Those weren't there yesterday."

"They sure weren't!" Heather exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "This is the final week of setting stuff up... and that includes the animatronics and the stage!"

"No wonder you're excited!" Sophia was beaming now too. "Did you help set this stuff up?"

"Sure did," Heather confirmed proudly. "I've already assembled one of the endoskeletons. The 'professionals' who get paid were amazed at how easily this stuff comes to me."

"... Endoskeleton?" Ronaldo tried to repeat slowly.

"Here, lemme show you," she explained, gesturing for him to hand over the pocket dictionary. She flipped through the pages, trying to pronounce the words she was looking for. "It's like metal bones... meh-ta-lih-co... hoo-ay-sos..."

"Oh, the 'h' is silent in Spanish words," Sophia explained. "Ronaldo taught me that."

"Huesos metálicos... metal bones... are an endoskeleton?" Ronaldo asked slowly.

Everyone at the table nodded.

"I see," Ronaldo said with a smile.

Before they could continue chatting, Frank wheeled a platform with a large television and VCR on it in front of the stage.

"Good morning, everyone!" Frank boomed, wheezing at the end. "... Welcome to your second day of training at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I kind of fu... messed up with forgetting the script yesterday, so I had to wing it, and I gave you the tour. What was supposed to happen was... I introduce everyone to the general idea of the company, and then the next day we take the tour and have everyone apply for the jobs that interested them. So we're just gonna switch the order of the first two days... the next few days will proceed the same - as 'try-outs', essentially, until the big lucky day - Friday! - when we announce our new team, before we open on Monday!

With that, Frank loaded a videotape into the VCR, hitting the play button. Someone in the back of the room was kind enough to hit the lights, surrounding everyone in darkness, as the screen turned a goldenrod color.

_"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza - Introduction" _was spelled out in black letters, and below it, in smaller letters, "_Fazbear Entertainment, 1984_"

"_No!_" Phil hissed, trying to keep his voice down, as he slouched down in his seat like a student trying to avoid being called on in class. "I thought we destroyed all the copies of that tape! They're supposed to use the 1985 ones!"

"What's wrong?" Jeremy whispered, before noticing the screen had faded to a real-life video, showing the image of a man in a casual light blue business shirt standing outside the doors of an older Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, based on the brown bear on the window's decal. Freddy still looked roughly the same, only with bigger eyes and lacking the prominent pink cheeks of the current design. Come to think of it, the man looked fairly familiar as well - almost like Frank, actually, with their hair in similar shades of graying brown - but he had a medium build, his face was a little more angular, and his eyes were a lighter shade of brown... in that regard, he looked almost like...

"_Hello, hello! My name is Federico Fazari, the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment!_" the man on the screen greeted.

... almost like Phil.

"_And if you're watching this video, I'd like to congratulate you - yes, you! - because you're on your way to becoming an important member of our family here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Since you're new around here, why don't I tell you a little about our family history?"_

The screen faded into the image of a different restaurant, with a large sign out in the parking lot reading "Fredbear's Family Diner".

"_Back in 1973, Frederick Derbassier wanted to take family dining to a different level with restaurants that were more kid-oriented, leading to the first Fredbear's Family Diner being opened. It featured a stage show with four animatronics, a gameroom near the lobby, and a private room for rental purposes, such as birthday parties."_

Phil groaned, burying his face in his arms on the table, as his father's voiceover continued.

"_I was a business man looking to invest in the children's entertainment industry, and..._"

Federico laughed during his voiceover, as the image of the restaurant faded to a picture taken inside, with a person wearing a Foxy costume receiving a hug from a dark-haired little boy, roughly six or seven years old, his most noticeable traits being the two or three baby teeth missing from his giant grin and the fact that his right arm ended at the wrist...

"_... well, let's just say I had been to a few of those birthday parties and was starting to get familiar with how the company worked._"

"Oh... my... god," Heather whispered, a gleeful grin spreading across her face.

"Oh my gosh, was that you, Phil?" Sophia squeaked, trying to cover her smile with her hands. "Oh my gosh, look how little you were! That's so _cute_!"

"Cute!" Ronaldo repeated with a smile.

"It's not cute!" Phil hissed, lifting his head up. If the room was properly lit, the crimson hue of his cheeks would be visible to all. "It's _embarrassing_!"

A person on the other side of the room shushed them, and they resumed watching the video.

"_... trouble in 1977, when we decided on a business merger, and thus Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was born!_"

"Trouble?" Jeremy asked softly.

"There was an... incident... at the original Fredbear Diner," Phil kept his head down, but tilted his face toward Jeremy. "I wasn't told a lot about it, since I was only eleven at the time... but there was some kind of drive-by shooting that wound up killing a child."

"What?!"

"Fitzgerald!" Frank snapped from the front of the room. "Save your questions for after the video!"

"Even worse, they never caught the guy," Phil added softly. "Which started spreading around rumors that maybe they _let_ him get away, suggesting that he had ties to my father and that this was a conspiracy to get the companies to merge."

He frowned.

"... But it's not true. My father's not that kind of man."

Some graphic portraying a bar graph with the predicted growth for the company faded back into the video footage of Federico Fazari standing just outside the doors of the restaurant with an eager grin on his face.

"_... what matters is that you're here TODAY to help shape the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza of TOMORROW! Oh, haha, guess we better go inside and get started then!"_

The screen faded to black, before changing to orange, now displaying "_Freddy Fazbear's Pizza - Your Uniform_" in black letters.

"_Whether it's birthday parties or just making sure everyone's having a good time in general, there's a lot to be done at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and we want to make sure you're dressed for the part!_" Federico explained, walking backwards into the main hall of the restaurant.

"_Uh-oh! Uh... I don't think I'm ready yet!_" a deep yet silly voice-over commented. Federico looked over to his right with a laugh.

"_Oh, don't worry! You look great, Freddy!"_

_"You really think so?"_

A person dressed in a Freddy costume walked out, stopping to stand at Federico's side.

"_Of course I do! You just keep on singing with your buddies, and we'll worry about the uniforms for the employees - or as we like to call them, 'The Crew'!_"

"These videos are so cheesy," Heather whispered, a big smile on her face. "Heheh... I love it!"

She unashamedly snorted with laughter, and Phil went back to burying his face in his arms with another groan, as the screen cut to an image of what was obviously Phil in his teenage years, based on the faint traces of acne on his face.

"_Your initial uniform will be provided by Fazbear Entertainment free of charge, but additional pieces can be purchased by speaking with your manager to order them._ _Most of The Crew will be wearing the uniform shown. It comes with an orange polo shirt and your nametag. You, the employee, will have to provide the dark-colored business slacks - preferably in black, a belt, black socks, and black shoes - no sneakers allowed! Make sure they're slip-resistant, because we have a lot of tile floors! As you can see, we've kept the uniform unisex, so there's no need for our female employees to worry about skirt length or heeled shoes._"

"That's a relief," Heather mumbled.

The screen cut to a different employee, wearing a bright lemon-yellow polo, khakis, and a white apron, and Federico's voiceover explained the kitchen uniform.

The screen cut away to Federico once again, now clad in a similar uniform to Phil, the only differences being his polo was goldenrod and he wore a black bowtie.

"_Wow... looking snazzy, Mr. Fazari!_" Freddy complimented. "_... if I do say so myself._"

"_Why, thank you, Freddy!_" Federico said with a laugh. "_It's important for these uniforms to stand out, as they belong to our management staff, including the assistant managers!_"

As Federico said this, Jeremy cast a quick glance at Phil.

"_In addition to the goldenrod polo, we ask that our management staff also wear a plain bowtie in a dark color..._" the screen changed suddenly, and it was clear Federico had changed clothes between takes. "_... or a plain necktie in a dark color. Remember, black is your best bet! Oh, but don't worry, management..."_

The screen changed again, and Federico was back in the same business shirt he was wearing at the start of the video. Freddy jumped back in amazement.

"_... you can wear business-casual of your choice on Fridays!"_

The screen cut away to an image of two men, standing side by side in near-identical uniforms, save for the colors.

"_Finally, we have our extremely important security guards! We'll be providing the long-sleeved shirt for you, as well as a badge and hat. Daytime security wears the purple uniform, and nighttime security wears the brown. Wearing the hat is optional, but we ask that you please bring some form of ID with you, since you will be wearing a badge instead of a nametag to indicate your position. Like the rest of The Crew, we ask that you wear dark slacks - preferably black, a belt, and some dark socks and shoes that are slip-resistant._"

The screen faded back into the video footage of Federico and Freddy.

"_That makes sense!_" Freddy commented.

"_I'm glad you think so! And remember, if you have any questions about your uniform, you can always speak with your manager,"_ Federico stated. "_Other than that, you should be - "_

The screen suddenly changed, and Federico was wearing the goldenrod polo once again, and the Freddy costume had changed from brown to a golden yellow as well, Freddy's voiceover making a little "Ooh!" of amazement.

"-_ golden!_"

The screen faded to black, before changing to lavender, with white text that read "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza - Potential Careers". At this point, however, Frank stepped over to hit the pause button on the VCR.

"Do you want to eat lunch now, or after the next section? Because the next part is about an hour long..."

The voices in the room made it clear that they would rather eat their pizza now and get it over with.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Finally! Man, I can't wait to eat!" Heather cheered, throwing her arms above her head, as she walked out of the building.

"The pizza's _not_ - " Phil started to protest, but based on the looks from his friends, he was fighting a losing battle. "... it could use some improvement."

"You sure you'll be okay after skipping a meal?" Sophia asked, concerned.

"Come on, people fast all the time. It's like, what, two right now?" Heather asked shrugging. "I'll just grab a late lunch. There's a Taco Shell not too far from here, and the line probably isn't that bad at this hour."

"If you think you can hold out for another hour, I hear Taco Shell is running their Happy Hour 3-to-5 promotion, and you can get any size drink for fifty cents," Jeremy added.

"Whoa, really? Awesome," Heather replied, then snapped her fingers. "Hey, Jer-Bear, that gives me a great idea!"

"... Could you please not call me that...?" Jeremy mumbled, looking off to the side with a blush.

She raised an eyebrow at him, before continuing her train of thought.

"Look, they're announcing the jobs on Friday, right? And we're all totally going to land a spot on the staff, right?" Heather proposed. "So, why don't we all go out for drinks Friday night? Do you know any good bars, Jer-man Chocolate Cake?"

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Well... I really like the sangria they serve at..." Jeremy's voice caught in his throat, his eyes wide, tapping the tips of his fingers together. "Oh, wait... they closed down about, um, a month ago... I forgot about that."

"Besides, Heather... some of us aren't, you know, old enough to drink," Phil reminded her, nodding in Ronaldo and Sophia's direction.

"Oh, shoot, my bad," Heather clapped a hand to her forehead. "How about this... the _five_ of us go out for wings, and the _three_ of us get something to drink while we're there? Sound like a plan?"

"It sounds great, I love wings!" Sophia chirped. "_En viernes, comer pollo!_"

Her Spanish was still poor, but Ronaldo figured it out, nodding excitedly.

"All right, where should we meet? You guys know where Wings N Things is, right? You wanna eat there?" Heather asked.

Her four friends looked around at each other, nodding.

"All right, it's a date! I'll see if I can call in a reservation when I get home," Heather stated with a smile, before walking off to her car. "See you later!"

"All right, guys, have a good night!" Sophia exclaimed, sidling up to Ronaldo. "We're gonna head over to the library and do some studying. Right?"

"Right," he answered, before the two of them walked off.

"I'm gonna head back in, see what I can help my uncle with," Phil said, pointing back at the door.

"Yeah, I'm just... I'm just gonna head home too," Jeremy commented, starting to turn towards the parking lot.

"Oh, Jeremy, wait!" Phil held up his hand to stop him. "Hey, so, uh... how did the other applications go?"

"The other...?" Jeremy shrugged one shoulder then the other. "I think it went okay, the Picnix manager seemed to like me... so if she gives me the job, that might create a conflict with working here."

"Yeah, but... maybe you could work the evening or night shifts there, so you could still work here?" Phil asked. "I really want you to get the job here."

"You're already starting to sound like management material," Jeremy commented with a wry smile.

"Do I?" Phil asked with a small laugh. "I just meant in the sense that it'd be nice to have our little group of friends around all the time... B-but, I mean, as long as you get a job and you're happy, then I'm happy too, you know?"

He kind of blurted out the last part, and Phil wondered if it was a mistake for a moment, until he saw Jeremy's smile turn genuine.

"Thanks."

"Uh, yeah, you're welcome," Phil replied awkwardly. "Right, so, I'm gonna see about helping my uncle clean up... see you tomorrow, Jeremy."

"See ya," he waved briefly, before turning to walk to his Ford Escort, another day done.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 5, 1987_

"The k-kitchen. We j-j-just ha-ha-had to g-get the k-kitchen f-first," Phil complained through chattering teeth, clutching his arms close to his body.

"I am c-cold too," Ronaldo agreed, holding himself the same way.

"Well, don't forget your dang umbrellas next time," Heather chided, as another soft rumble of thunder lightly shook the building. "Or you could, I dunno, stand closer to the oven?"

Phil took her advice pretty quickly, and Ronaldo followed suit, standing next to the pizza oven. Meanwhile, Sophia and Jeremy emerged from the giant walk-in fridge, Sophia with a box of thawed pizza dough and Jeremy with several bags of pizza toppings, such as cheese, mushrooms, onions, and peppers.

"So, this is kind of like a cooking competition? To see who can make the best pizza?" Sophia inquired, as Jeremy filled the toppings stations.

"I think it's just about making sure you can actually get the job done, like passing or failing," Jeremy remarked, as he finished pouring the last of the diced onions into one of several metal bins situated in a cooled station along the wall.

"That, and this way you have no one to blame but yourself if you don't like your lunch," Phil commented, already kneading out the crust with one hand to fit the individual-sized pan in front of him. "You eat your first pizza, remember?"

"Yeah, but... this early in the day?" Sophia debated.

"First pizza... you make it sound like a memorable experience," Heather laughed, as she too started working on her pizza crust. "Kinda makes me wish I'd brought a camera."

Jeremy pressed a finger into the dough, staring at the little indentation left in the crust. It... _was_ good that it was still there, right? Or was the indentation supposed to rise again in order to indicate a good crust? He glanced over to his side, where Phil already had the sauce and cheese spread out - rather uniformly, too - all over his crust, and was now weighing out the proper amount of pepperoni to top his pizza.

Jeremy measured out the sauce and cheese, trying to rotate the pan for a uniform spread as he poured on the sauce and sprinkled the cheese. Now for toppings - pepperoni, mushrooms, onions, and black olives sounded like a good mix. He started distributing the mushrooms when he paused - Phil had put pepperoni on first, and come to think of it, there was a certain order to follow when putting toppings on - and quickly switched to pepperoni before finishing up with the mushrooms.

He found himself in line to use the oven right behind Sophia and before Heather, Phil's pizza already on the way through.

"Man, it almost looks pretty good when you see it come out of the oven," Heather admitted.

"Well, I have had experience," Phil shrugged, as he placed the pan down on the counter and fumbled with trying to get a spatula between the pizza and the pan with no way to hold it down. "This... is... always... the hard part though!"

With his pizza already on the way through, Ronaldo stepped over to hold the pizza steady with another spatula until Phil finally slipped it off onto a plate.

"Thanks, Ronaldo!" he expressed with a grin. "Hey, uh, just curious, how do you say 'thank you' in Spanish? It starts with a 'g', I know that."

"_Gracias._"

"_Gracias_," Phil repeated.

"_De nada._ You're welcome," Ronaldo replied with a smile, before turning to move his pizza.

Sophia's pizza went through next, and Jeremy's pizza followed. It came through... just fine. There was a tiny black spot on the crust where a splash of sauce had been burnt, but if kids couldn't notice the bland flavor of the pizza as it was, they wouldn't notice a burn this minor. Heck, it might even make it taste better, Jeremy smirking at the thought. Despite his clumsy maneuvering, he managed to get the pizza onto the plate with no problem. After a few minutes of allowing their pizzas to cool, everyone sat together in the dining area to eat, even though the game room group hadn't rotated out yet. When they finally left, Heather immediately stood up.

"Okay. Sneak peek. Just for you guys," Heather stated.

"Sneak p-" Phil folded his arms. "Heather, _no_."

"Come _on_, it's cool, and it's like... a much better demonstration of my talent than baking some darn pizza," she dismissed, walking up to the stage. "Gentlemen... and Sophia... behold!"

Heather pulled the stage's curtain back with a masterful sweep on the final word. Mother Nature even threw in another rumble of thunder for dramatic effect.

"Endoskeletons!" Ronaldo exclaimed.

Sure enough, there were three of them already situated on the stage, just erect metal framework with those unsettling bulging eyes.

"They aren't plugged in yet, and obviously we haven't 'dressed' them, so I'd like to introduce my three nudist friends here..." Heather continued, before pointing from left to right. "... Bonnie, Freddy, and Chica."

"Not quite as 'charming' like this, are they..." Jeremy muttered, comparing the endoskeletons to a poster on the wall. "Wait... isn't there a fourth one?"

Phil let out a sigh of disappointment, resting his head against his hand.

"I tried to reason with my father, but... I don't exactly have any power in the company..." Phil stated, looking over in the direction of Kids' Cove. "Foxy is going to be moved to Kids' Cove. And he's been redesigned and reimagined. He's not a pirate anymore... he's not even a guy anymore. _Loxy_ is going to just smile and wave and recite nursery rhymes and remind people of the rules, kind of like a motherly figure. Of all the ones to make 'kid-friendly', why'd it have to be him? Or... 'her', now, I suppose."

"It's just a fictional character, Phil," Sophia tried to reassure.

"I know, but... it's _Foxy_! It's dumb, but he was always special to me..." Phil's voice grew soft, looking at the end of his right arm, a scowl forming on his face. "And the idea of forcing him to change who he is, just so he fits some 'kid-friendly' standard, even though he was fine the way he was... it... it kind of pisses me off."

He shook his head, resting his arms in his lap.

"Sorry, I got carried away. Kind of happens when you've known these characters for most of your childhood," Phil laughed weakly. "I guess the newer models are kind of cute..."

"The new Bonnie definitely seems like an improvement, for sure," Jeremy remarked, recalling his encounter with the animatronic rabbit only two days ago.

"Ha! Oh, Bonnie... you should see that nerd now," Heather chuckled, climbing off the stage, returning to the table. "Had to tear off part of his face just to get to the wires I needed. You know, for the facial recognition software in the eyes."

"... Hey, Heather?" Jeremy asked.

"What?"

"I'm kind of glad you're an engineer and not a surgeon."

Everyone at the table laughed.

"All right, well, I'm done with my little show and my little lunch," she remarked, removing her plate. "What area are we practicing in next, Phil?"

"The game area, where else?" he commented, looking over his shoulder.

In the next section of the room, the games and even a few rides - such as a miniature carousel - could be seen.

"Games, _juegos_, correct?" Ronaldo asked, before quickly flipping through the pages of his dictionary. "We... play?"

"Yes," Phil confirmed, though he was trying to bite back a childish grin. "We, uh, also gotta make sure we know how to fix ticket jams, how to unlock the token boxes, what to inspect, how to clean them... you know. It's still pretty easy."

After finishing their pizzas, the five of them walked into the other half of the room. Jeremy cast one last look over his shoulder, the large eyes of the animatronics seeming to stare at them, as the thunder rolled outside. Better not to look and focus on the task at hand.

"So, how do you wanna do this? Should we split up?" Heather asked Phil, who shrugged. "All right, then we'll split up."

"_I thought __**I **__was the one training to be assistant manager_," Phil mumbled to himself, earning a small smile from Jeremy, who had overheard him.

"So... Ronaldo and Sophia. You two are always running off together. How about you guys practice loading the tickets on Whac-A-Mole? I'll check on the wires and do some cleaning. Phil, you and Jeremy go check out the skeeball machines."

"It's like an episode of 'Scooby-Doo'," Sophia noted with a giggle, before heading off to the left with Ronaldo.

"She had to make the comparison," Phil sighed, as he and Jeremy walked over to the skeeball machines.

"What, you didn't like Scooby as a kid?" Jeremy asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you kidding? I love Scooby-Doo!" Phil countered. "I-It's just... c-comparing _us_ to..."

He looked down at his shoes, his hand and other arm tucking into his pockets as he thought for a moment.

"... uh... comparing us to a group of f-friends that... solve mysteries... and how I mentioned the other day... about the, uh, drive-by shooting and the criminal that got away... ehhh... I-I just felt kind of..." Phil cringed, shaking his head. "I-I just kind of feel like it's comparing the family company to sleezy criminals... and it just - _ergh!_ - just bothers me a _lot_!"

"Yeah, I can see why that would rub you the wrong way," Jeremy agreed sympathetically, kneeling in front of one of the machines.

He removed the keyring he had been given for the day from his pocket, and flipped through the keys until he came to the one for the token boxes in the gameroom. He unlocked the box and hit the 'test' switch inside, causing a line of balls to roll down the chute.

"... if it makes you feel any better, I believe you. About your dad and everything," Jeremy commented, as Phil inspected one of the balls for any scratches or deformities.

"... You do?" Phil asked, looking up from it.

"Sure," Jeremy continued, as he inspected a different one. "I mean, he seemed friendly in the videos from yesterday, and you wouldn't defend him as much as you do if you didn't love him a lot, so I can only presume the feeling is mutual."

"I... uh..." he suddenly went quiet, keeping his eyes on the ball in his hand, but he had the biggest, most adorable smile imagineable.

"All right, they're all accounted for. Let's test the lights," Jeremy declared, holding up one of the balls. He rolled it quickly up the ramp, watching it climb into the air before rolling down the 20-point hoop. The score lights changed to match, as well as switching the ball count from nine to eight.

"You wanna roll?" Jeremy asked, pointing to the ball still in Phil's hand.

"Huh? Oh, uh, sure."

He rolled the ball up the ramp, aiming for one of the small 100-point holes on either side of the game, but it bounced off the rim and even missed the large 10-point hoop, rolling down the ball-return instead.

"You know... I've always wondered if I was supposed to be born right-handed," Phil muttered, looking at his left hand. Jeremy laughed and rolled another ball up the ramp, this time landing in one of the smaller center hoops for 40 points. "Oh, _sure_, just show off some more."

They laughed and sped through rolling the other balls to test the machine, before moving on to the others.

"All right, what should we test next?" Phil asked, as Jeremy finished locking the final token box back into place.

"More like, what area do we visit next?" Heather butted in, walking over with Sophia and Ronaldo. "Geez, you guys, if you wanna chat that much, do it after hours, y'know?"

"Well, to be fair, we haven't covered the Prize Corner yet..." Sophia defended.

"Yeah, but what is there to cover, really?" Heather argued, as they all walked over to the area. "I mean, you just keep the glass clean, restock stuff, display the ticket exchange rates, show off the really fancy prizes... and..."

"Music," Ronaldo reminded her.

"Music, right, the little music box..." she turned the crank on the box on the counter, a few little notes chiming out slowly. "With all the arcade sound effects, kids yelling, and music playing over the speakers, I don't see how this is supposed to 'draw kids in', but whatever."

"Rachel loves cute stuff like this," Jeremy commented, holding one of the Bonnie plushies in his hands.

"Rachel...?" Heather's voice took on a mischievous, sing-song tone. "... I didn't know you had a girlfriend...!"

Jeremy gave her a horrified look.

"Rachel is my _little sister!_" he shot back.

"Whoa, geez, okay, protective big brother much?" Heather backed off, raising her hands.

"Hey! Not to change the subject, but maybe we should run through the other sections of the building for pra- "

Phil's voice was cut off by a particularly loud clap of thunder, and the lights blacked out. A horrifying scream filled the air, and someone grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Whoa! Sheesh, Heather! Watch the voice! I-It's just a black-out, the power will be back in no-" Phil complained, as the power returned to the building.

"... Okay, I... I may have a little fear of the dark... " she confessed, practically clinging to Jeremy's back the way a cat clings to the person trying to give it a bath. He was the one who grabbed onto Phil's shoulders, probably startled by Heather's scream.

"A _little_," Jeremy scoffed, letting go of Phil.

"Oh, you," Heather rolled her eyes, letting go of him, as the five of them walked out into the main hallway, to resume practice.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"The rain is becoming worse," Ronaldo grumbled, looking out the front window. "And I do not have a umbrella. I have to run fast."

"No, you don't have to run!" Sophia assured, holding up her umbrella. "You can share mine!"

"Share?" he asked.

She nodded, stepping outside and opening it in one motion. Holding it up over her head - her arm outstretched so she could shield the much taller Ronaldo, she waved for him to follow her outside. He ducked under her umbrella, tucked close against her.

"Um... I can..." He took the umbrella from her grasp, since he could hold onto it at shoulder level to cover them both, walking with her out into the parking lot.

"The power better not go out again... I've still got work to do..." Heather grumbled, starting to head for the storage room where the spare parts were kept.

"So, um..." Jeremy's voice trailed off as he picked up his umbrella. "... Do you need someone to walk you out to your car?"

"Oh, that would be great, thank you!" Phil replied, as Jeremy started to open the umbrella as he stepped out of the doorway. Phil stepped out as well, close by Jeremy's side underneath it. It was a little awkward, their sides practically pressed together to fit under that one umbrella, but at least it kept them fairly dry.

"I, uh, tend to park near the front... but with all the rain, I-I missed my usual spot," Phil explained, raising his voice over the sound of the pouring rain colliding with the pavement and umbrella.

"That's all right, just lead the way," Jeremy replied.

"I'm in the third row, over to the left. The Mercury Sable."

"Oh, nice. You weren't kidding about your dad buying you a car for your birthday, huh."

"Haha, nope!" Phil looked up at him, flashing a brief grin, before something in his demeanor changed. His smile softened and he forced himself to look down at the pavement. "You know, uh... earlier... back at the skeeball machines..."

"... Yeah?"

"Well... I was being dumb and quiet about it, but... uh..." Phil's train of thought stopped when he realized they were already standing at the driver's side of his Mercury Sable, only for it to take off sprinting. "Hey, I wanted to, uh, actually... I wanted to thank you for what you said. It sounds really irrational, but i-in all the years I've worked here, nobody's ever stood up for me or my father."

"Like I said, he seemed nice in the videos, and it probably was just an unfortunate coincidence..."

Phil smiled sadly, the thought of things Jeremy didn't know eating away at his insides, as he bent over slightly to keep Phil sheltered as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"... and... well... it's also evident in how he raised you... since you're a really nice guy too..."

"I - uh - " Phil stammered, this time it wasn't a smile he tried to hide, but a faint blush, a particularly large bite taken from inside him.

"... I-I-I should go," Jeremy stuttered, straightening suddenly with his back to Phil. "... S-see ya, Phil."

"... Bye, Jeremy," Phil spoke quietly, before closing his door. As he started his car, he watched him walk off until he was a blur of color amidst the raindrops trailing down his window.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 6, 1987_

"... Good to hear! We didn't have too many applicants for night security, so there won't be too much disappointment from the newbies."

Phil had just walked into Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, early as always, on a nice sunny day, when he overheard his uncle.

"It's always been my job," replied a familiar voice nonchalantly. "... I mean... what would I do without it?"

"Mr. Burgess!" Phil exclaimed, turning down the main hallway, to see his uncle chatting with the man.

"Oh, Phil, I've told you before, call me John," he laughed lightheartedly. It was nice to see him in high spirits.

John Burgess was a gangly man of above-average height, pretty much the human equivalent of a beanpole. His light brown hair had started to fade over the years, most noticeably in the wide, bushy mustache across his face. He held in his hands the familiar long-sleeved brown uniform shirt of the night watchman.

"Well, that's one less position to hire for..." Frank wiped his brow. "Sheesh, this week has been getting to me... better make sure I pick up my blood pressure meds at the pharm tonight..."

"Please do, sir," John advised, his tone heavily concerned. But he brightened up shortly afterwards. "Other than that, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, and I will see you again soon, Frank. Maybe you too, Phil. Best wishes with the assistant management position!"

"Uh, yeah, thank you!" he shook hands - John already familiar with Phil's left-handed shake - with the soon-to-return security guard, as he left.

"What a nice fellow," Frank remarked, as the door closed behind him. "Hard to believe that he's the brother of such a disgusting creep."

The words were a chilling reminder. Phil just nodded silently in agreement, remembering those things left unsaid to Jeremy... he kept his eyes on the fan in the office, trying to think of anything else but those memories. Come to think of it, how was Jeremy doing today? Would he be on time again?

He let those thoughts fill his mind as he went to help his uncle set up tables and chairs for the session that day.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes! I can't believe this is finally the big day!" Heather exclaimed gleefully, wriggling in her seat like an eight-year-old at their birthday at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

"The big day?" Ronaldo asked. "Is there something important?"

"You'll see," Phil commented, though he also appeared fairly excited.

Suddenly, the lights around them dimmed, and a spotlight centered on the curtains.

"_Ladies and gentlemen!_" boomed a voice over the speakers, some kind of generic announcer. "_Put your hands together for Freddy and Friends!"_

"Freddy and Friends? ... Is that really the name of the band?" Jeremy asked. "Couldn't they have been more... creative?"

Heather shushed him, as the curtains pulled away and the spotlight now shone on the blue rabbit, brown bear, and yellow chicken on stage.

"_How's everyone doing? I hope you're ready... to PARTY!"_

A few enthusiastic shouts and a few half-assed cheers rang out amidst the group of college students, Heather among the ones who seemed genuinely excited.

A pop song for kids started playing, with Freddy introducing his friends and talking about parties and fun and all the generic childhood joys. As the song came to an end, this time two new voiceovers were heard - a feminine voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, as well as a nasally, stereotypically nerdy voice.

"_Ooh, I just love singing!_" Chica 'commented', her head nodding as her body shifted to turn towards the other two band members. "_Almost as much as I love a good slice of pizza, mm-mmm!_"

"_We'll have time for pizza in a little, Chica,_" Freddy laughed, an animatronic hand pressed to his belly. "_I think we should give our guests one more song!_"

"_Um, I beg your pardon, Freddy, but - _"

"Yeah, Bon-Bon!" Heather cheered in a loud whisper.

"... _what's up, Bonnie?_"

Bonnie looked down at his guitar, then back at Freddy.

"_... I was thinking... would you mind if I tried singing the lead vocals for once? I've... I've been practicing a whole lot!_"

"_Bonnie... that would make me super happy! It's good to try new things, and as we all know, it's important to share!_" Freddy exclaimed. "_Why don't you take center stage?"_

"Oh my gosh, here we go," Heather whispered breathlessly, watching the scene like Dr. Frankenstein. "Do it, Bon-Bon."

Despite most of the recruits being college students, there were 'oohs' of amazement and even some applause as Bonnie took a few steps to his left to take the center stage. His robotic hands tweaked at his guitar a few times, a random variety of sound effects - acoustic guitar, electric synth, the croak of a frog, a trumpet - coming from the speakers.

"_Okay. Here goes..._" he took a deep breath. "_... first, it's important for a singer to warm up!_ _That's why Freddy always practices backstage before each show!_ _So, I'm just going to perform my favorite warm-up song! A-hem-hem...!_"

The singing voice that took over was obviously not Bonnie's, but a pre-recorded track by a professional musician, as the baritone operatic voice graced the speakers.

"_**Toréador, en garde! Toréador! Toréador!**_  
><em><strong>Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant,<strong>_  
><em><strong>Qu'un œil<strong>__** noir te regarde...**_  
><em><strong>Et que, l'amour t'attend, <strong>__**toréador!**_  
><em><strong>L'amour, l'amour t'attend!<strong>__"_

There was a sound effect of a record scratching, as well as Bonnie taking a deep breath to continue.

"_Bonnie!_" Freddy and Chica called out.

"No-good interruptions... that was the best part of this show..." Heather grumbled, someone at the nearby table shushing her. "... _you_ shush!"

"_That was a great performance - am I right, everybody?"_ Chica called out, turning to the audience. Heather stood up in her seat cheering. "_... but that's not exactly what the kids are listening to these days!_"

"_Oh... well, I'm not very good at those songs yet..._" Bonnie sighed.

"_That's okay! Practice makes perfect, and you're well on your way!_" Freddy reassured with a laugh. "_... but until then, maybe you should let _me _handle the BEAR-itone!_"

The recruits groaned as the three animatronics laughed and returned to their usual places on stage, starting to perform a different song. As they sang, Frank took the opportunity to start distributing paperwork amongst the tables - facedown. When the song came to an end, an employee activated the stage to close the curtains, giving the animatronics the signal that performance time was over.

"... Thought that little performance would be a nice way to lighten the mood before the big test," Frank offered. "Speaking of which, a special thanks to Miss Carras, an intern who helped set up our three friends here and the others in the game area and Kids' Cove."

Heather took a moment to stand up and wave, greeted with applause - especially from her own table.

"All right, you've got your pencils, just answer the questions," Frank instructed, lazily waving a hand around.

"I thought he said he would hire if he liked what he saw!" someone complained in a fairly audible whisper.

"And I would like to see your tests!" Frank snapped. "No talking, no notes, and eyes on your own paper!"

"Now, hold on a second!" Sophia argued, standing straight up. "Some of us need help reading this stuff!"

"If you aren't smart enough to read plain English, why'd you even bother trying to get the job?" Frank grumbled.

"No," stated Ronaldo, now standing up as well. "I am smart. My problem is I do not speak English good."

"Yet," Sophia added, looking back at him with a smile.

"Yet," he repeated, smiling back, before turning to Frank again. "When I finish the test, I give you the dictionary. You see no notes. I use it for translation."

"Fair enough," he relented. "Now, sit down and take your tests."

"Good job, Ronaldo," Jeremy whispered, keeping his voice and his eyes down.

"Thank you."

The questions were, for the most part, simple, but they were some of the most important things to remember around the pizzeria - how many cuts do you make on a large pizza? Which of the following cleaning products would you use on the tables? Which of the following properly lists the order of how to check the skeeball machines? And so on. Jeremy smiled at the skeeball question, remembering the sour face Phil had made when he rolled that 40-pointer.

The minutes passed, and people began to filter out of the room, handing in their tests.

"Shoot... old man had to make it a test..." Heather grumbled, as Sophia stepped outside. "I hope Ronaldo won't be too long..."

"I'm sure... he'll be okay..." Sophia tried to reassure, looking to Jeremy and Phil for back-up.

"Uh, from what I remember, i-it seemed pretty easy. And the chemical names are pretty specific, so I'm sure those parts won't be too hard..." Phil offered.

"Can you guys hang around for a while?" Heather asked. "So we can wait for Ronaldo?"

"Your patience is surprising, you usually like to bolt back to your apartment," Phil commented.

"Yeah, well..." Heather's voice trailed off, as she reached into her pocket. "... I remembered what we said the other day, and..."

She removed a camera.

"I kind of thought we should get a group picture, you know?"

"And to think, you're the one always complaining about the summer camp stuff," Sophia laughed. "I think that's a great idea!"

"I'm willing to wait if you guys are," Phil stated.

"I can stay a little longer," Jeremy agreed. "I mean, I can't wait around for another hour - "

"I'm sure he won't be that long," Sophia defended.

"True, it's just... I have plans," Jeremy explained. "I'm meeting a friend for drinks tonight."

"Uh, you haven't forgotten about Friday, right?" Heather asked. "Because I got the reservations at Wings N Things."

"I know, I still plan on going," Jeremy confirmed. "This is more about... _her. _My friend, I mean. I'm taking her out to try to cheer her up."

"But I thought you didn't know any good bars?" Sophia asked.

Jeremy's eyes widened, and he started tapping his fingertips together.

"I, uh... it's nothing special, it just has good drinks."

"How is it nothing special if it has good drinks?" Heather inquired.

"It's just one of those chain restaurants, like Philly's or Apple-T's, you know. It's just the bartender, uh, Dan, is really good at making drinks. It's not the establishment, it's the person doing the mixing, you know?"

"I guess that's... true..." Heather agreed, though she kept an eye on Jeremy. "Makes me hope Robert will be in on Friday. You two gotta try his ginger beer mojitos."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Jeremy said weakly, forcing a smile.

"Done!"

At that moment, Ronaldo came walking through the doors, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Ronaldo! Was everything okay?" Sophia asked.

"Yes. Some difficult questions. But I remember a lot of things."

"That's great!" Phil complimented, as another person walked out the door. "Oh, we should take that picture now! Sabrina!"

"What?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Could you, uh, take a picture of us? Give her the camera, Heather."

Heather handed it over to Sabrina.

"All right, where do you wanna take it?" she asked.

"Um..." Phil's voice trailed off. "I guess right in front of the building?"

"It's simple enough," Sophia supported.

The five of them crowded together, the tallest two - Ronaldo and Jeremy - in the back, with Heather, Sophia, and Phil in front of them.

"Is the light okay?" Heather asked.

"It's fine. Are you good?" Sabrina asked. "Okay, uh, say... I dunno... 'ready for Freddy'..."

"_Ready for Freddy!_"

She clicked the button, and the camera flashed briefly, taking the snapshot.

"One more?"

"One more."

"One, two... 'ready for Freddy'...!"

"_Ready for Freddy!_"

The camera flashed again, and Sabrina handed it back to Heather once they were done, walking off.

"I'm really glad she asked for that second picture, cause I think I may have blinked in that first one," Heather remarked. "All right, see you guys tomorrow...!"

Everyone said their goodbyes and walked off, a little extra spring in their step, as they were all confident - even Ronaldo - that they had landed a spot amongst The Crew.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 7, 1987_

"Jeremy is late again?" Ronaldo asked, as Phil took his seat amongst his friends, as usual.

"Yeah," Phil laughed half-heartedly. "It was only by like one minute, but... Jeremy wasn't too pleased. Poor guy, I think he's being too hard on himself. He said something like 'Why did I even bother coming'... probably because my uncle was there when he showed up. Knowing him, he's probably giving him a scolding about being late... but he should be fine. Jeremy's a smart guy, he'll learn from his mistakes soon enough."

"Oh, Jeremy!" Sophia called out, waving to him as he walked into the main room. "Over here!"

Jeremy walked over and took his seat, silent and expressionless.

"Hey, uh, Jer... emy," Heather commented. "... You feeling okay?"

Frank walked onto the stage with a sheet of paper - likely a script, his face flushed with a hint of sweat, the corners of his lips turned up in a fake smile.

"Testing? Okay, good. Hello, everyone. Welcome to the last day of training, where we announce our new staff members. We'll also have pizza for lunch again, as well as cake this time, so help yourself. This is a short day, so let's keep it that way and just have the ceremony and get it over with," he beckoned for two of the returning staff members to come on stage, each carrying a cardboard box. "When I call your name, come get your uniform and nametag."

Frank took a few deep breaths, and began to read from the paper.

"What makes an effective leader? Someone who knows what it's like to have been on the bottom, as they slowly climb their way to the top. It is my pleasure to introduce our newest assistant manager..." there was no need for him to check the paper, as he already knew how to pronounce the name.

"... Phil Fazari."

Phil let out a gasp, locking eyes with Heather.

"I got it?!"

"Yes, numbskull, good job!" she teased. "I mean, Mr. Numbskull, sir, now go onstage!"

Phil excitedly made his way onstage, one of the employees handing over the famous goldenrod polo and his new nametag.

"_He only got the position because he's family with the higher-ups,_" someone at a nearby table muttered.

"You shut your fucking mouth," Heather snapped.

"I, uh, I-I don't really know what to say," Phil commented on stage, looking out at the table where his friends were seated. Ronaldo, Heather, Sophia, and Jeremy were applauding... and a small smile had even returned to his face.

"That's because you aren't making a speech, go sit down so we can get this over with," Frank ordered, trying not to let the microphone pick up what he was saying.

Phil quickly shuffled off-stage, as his uncle continued speaking.

"A leader can only be as great as his team, though, so it is important to have plenty of great workers to go around. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza prides itself on the excellent parties it hosts, and we need great hosts to make it happen, such as..."

Phil took his seat, looking excitedly over at Jeremy.

"... Anita Horton, Emmett Campbell, and Daisy Floyd."

The three employees stepped onto the stage, taking their new orange polo shirts. Phil's smile disappeared as Jeremy took a long breath, closing his eyes.

"Parties aren't that fun anyway... remember 'Bitey'? I-I bet they'll be dealing with all kinds of tantrums, heh," Phil tried to reassure.

"Parties are a big source of income and fun at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and part of that comes from our game room. We need lots of help keeping the games running correctly and checking on the animatronics from time-to-time. Supervising our gamerooms... are Bradley Fowler and George Thornton."

"_Damn it_," Heather cursed.

"Something's not right," Phil mumbled. "Uncle said there would be three gameroom supervisors..."

"Tying into that, it's important to keep our guests safe and to prevent any mischief, such as fights over using the games. Our newest daytime security guard, and gameroom-supervisor-on-the-side, is Heather Carras."

"WOO-HOO!" she cheered, dashing onto the stage to accept her violet uniform. She paused to point and wink at something behind the curtains (Phil rolled his eyes but laughed), before coming off-stage.

"Only a supervisor 'on-the-side', though? Does your uncle realize he gave the position to George Thornton, Mr. Trips-Over-the-Cord-He's-Supposed-to-Tuck-Away, over me? I guess I do kind of match with the old Bonnie, so that'll be okay."

Frank called out the names of the first aid staff - Sophia being one of the two new recruits, the cashiers, the waiters... and Phil shifted uncomfortably in his seat by the time the kitchen staff had been called up - Ronaldo being among them.

"... And of course, we don't want things just to be safe and fun... we want to keep things clean. EVERYONE matters at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, so I'd like to close with our two new janitors... Irene Hogan and John Atkins!"

Phil felt his stomach sink, and everyone else at the table shared similar looks of discomfort or confusion. He looked at Jeremy for any kind of response, but he kept his eyes focused on the stage and his lips straight. With his cold expression and the gray-blue dim lighting of the room, it almost looked like he had turned to stone, a solemn sculpture always watching, never flinching.

"Thank you all for coming, and congratulations to our new recruits... we look forward to seeing you on Monday or whatever day your shift begins!" Frank concluded.

Everyone - or rather, _almost_ everyone - in the room cheered, some of the people starting to leave. In one fluid motion, Jeremy stood up and made a beeline for the door.

"Jeremy?!" Phil exclaimed, now getting to his feet. "Jeremy, wait!"

He chased after him, out the front doors, the bright blue sky and smiling mascot decals contrasting with the dark mood that surrounded them.

"Jeremy!" he finally grabbed hold of his wrist, stopping him. "What's going on?! Why didn't you... I-I thought you made the cut for sure!"

He shot a glare at Phil, who took a step back, letting go of him. Guilt overtook him when he realized Phil was genuinely concerned, and he looked down, squeezing his eyes shut.

"... I fucked up," he sighed. He let out one masochistic chuckle, repeating it again. "I fucked up. I fucked up so _BAD!_"

He let out a heavy breath of air and turned on his heel, the knuckles of his fist connecting firmly with the rough brick walls of the pizzeria.

"_Jeremy!_" this time it wasn't just Phil calling his name, but Sophia as well. He had grabbed onto Jeremy to pull him away from the wall, whereas she had grabbed his arm. Jeremy was panting heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilation, and they gently eased him into a sitting position.

"Jeremy, calm down, take it easy, it's okay..." Phil repeated over and over, almost wondering if it was also to soothe himself, as he gently squeezed and massaged Jeremy's shoulder, trying to relieve some tension.

Sophia took Jeremy's hand in both of hers, examining his knuckles. The bricks had left his knuckles abraded, dark pink with small amounts of thin skin peeling off - the most notable damage at the knuckle of his middle finger, where a small amount of blood was beginning to trickle through the tiny crevices and pores of the skin on his hand.

"It's not that bad..." she observed, trying to remain optimistic, but she glared at Jeremy. "Why would you do something like that to yourself?!"

"Jeremy!"

"Jeremy, what the hell?!"

Ronaldo and Heather had arrived outside too. She looked back at them, then at Jeremy and Phil.

"I'm going to run back inside and grab some bandages and ointment, and maybe get a bag of ice," Sophia declared, before darting back inside the building.

When his other two friends walked over, Jeremy lowered his head, not wanting to be seen. A few other employees started to walk over, curious as to what was going on, but Heather shooed them off.

"Jeremy...? Are you okay?" Ronaldo asked. Jeremy shook his head with another deep sigh.

"It was the test, wasn't it...?" Phil asked, still holding onto Jeremy's shoulder. "They... my uncle... couldn't have made them all the same, so he probably included a difficulty curve..."

"I passed the test just fine," Jeremy stated dryly. "The problem was _me_."

Before Phil or Heather could ask, Sophia came bustling back outside, rubber gloves on her hands - a box of band-aids in one and antibacterial gel in the other.

"Sorry, no ice!" she exclaimed, before kneeling in front of Jeremy. She dabbed a thin layer of gel over the cut on his knuckle, before applying the bandage.

"Look at you go, girl," Heather remarked.

"I have to be professional now," Sophia shrugged with a sheepish smile.

"I-It's just a tiny little cut and a few bruises, it's no big deal," Jeremy stated calmly.

"Yes it _is_, Jeremy! Y-You can't just hurt yourself like this whenever something goes wrong!" Phil insisted, his brows furrowed.

"Speaking of which, what do you mean the problem was 'you'?" Heather asked.

"I can't tell you..." Jeremy mumbled, keeping his eyes low.

"Yes, you _can_, we're your friends!" Phil assured. "Please... I-I'm assistant manager now, remember? Maybe... maybe there's something I can do, you know?"

Ronaldo had been flipping through the pocket dictionary Sophia always carried around with her, before looking up and speaking to Jeremy.

"We will not... judge... you."

Jeremy let out another sigh, before getting to his feet. He turned around, keeping his back to his friends, before he spoke again.

"Why would your uncle even bother going to that Packard pharmacy, Phil?"

"My... I-I don't know what pharmacy he goes to. Well, n-not exactly, anyway. He's still got a bit of, uh, a sweet tooth, so I knows he likes to buy lemon drops from time-to-time, heheh. I guess it's the only one that still carries his favorite?" Phil shook his head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Your uncle saw me last night with my friend, Laurie. You see... _that_ Packard, unfortunately, happens to be right..." Jeremy took another deep breath, blinking rapidly a few times as he turned his gaze skyward. "... right next door to Paradise Lounge."

He heard Heather gasp, but everyone else was silent.

"I don't get it," Sophia looked over at Heather. "What's so bad about Paradise Lounge?"

"Paradise Lounge is..." she shifted uncomfortably. "Well, _it's not bad_, first of all."

Heather noticed Jeremy relax his shoulders when she mentioned that, and she smiled briefly.

"But Paradise Lounge is... well... Jeremy, should I - "

"... it's a gay bar," he stated simply.

"... Yeah," Heather said, breaking the awkward silence that followed.

"But... I thought you just said you went with a girl?" Sophia asked. "So... uh... wouldn't that mean..."

"Laurie broke up with her boyfriend about a week ago, and she wanted to try having a drink with a friend to ease the pain. Don't get me wrong, she's not like drowning her sorrows in alcohol... she's smarter than that. It was more of the wanting company factor. But she didn't really want any guys hitting on her at the bar so soon after the split, since it's still a sensitive subject for her, and she is really pretty, so she tends to draw attention... so I offered to take her out for a drink."

He smiled sadly.

"Out to the bar with the finest sangria and where there'd be no men hitting on her. Paradise Lounge. And just as we were leaving, Mr. Fazari pulled up to the Packard right next door. He just stared at me for a moment, until he recognized me, because he immediately sneered and stomped right into the drugstore."

"Oh no," Phil whispered, clutching his head. "Then when my uncle got angry and wanted to see you in the office..."

"Yeah," Jeremy stated dryly, his voice cracking slightly. "He told me that he had seen right through my scheme, and there was no way he'd let some... s-some... s-some sick faggot spread 'its' diseases to children."

"That fucking bastard!" Heather growled, pounding a fist into her hand. "I oughta go in there and shove some of that raw pizza dough up his ass... then see who he's calling 'diseased'!"

"Heather!" Phil hissed.

"What, you're not actually taking his side, are you?!"

"No! Don't you _ever_ think that I'd - " now Phil was the one pacing, trying to keep his breathing and volume under control. "I disagree with my uncle on a lot of stuff, and this is definitely one of those things, but... h-he's still our boss, and he can change his mind about our jobs just like that."

She let out a resignated sigh.

"Jeremy, I-I'm sorry, I really am," Phil tried to circle around Jeremy, to get him to look at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the sky. "Maybe... maybe we can fix things! We can, uh, tell my uncle that Laurie was your girlfriend... a-and that you didn't know what Paradise Lounge was! So that way you can get a job here... just... just like we all promised!"

"He won't listen. He won't listen to any of us. And besides, once the truth is leaked, there's no use trying to deny it," Jeremy cleared his throat, removing his glasses from his face to wipe his arm across his eyes before replacing them. "You were right, Phil. What you said about Foxy, or Loxy, or whoever... it was so, so right."

Phil sighed deeply, his heart and lungs seeming to sink into his gut. It appeared to be contagious, because Ronaldo sighed as well.

"No... no more sighs!" Sophia suddenly blurted out. "We can't just stand around outside of this building and be sad forever! What about wings?"

"That was supposed to be a celebratory dinner," Heather reminded her. "We can't exactly celebrate something like this."

"So change it, then! We won't go out for wings to celebrate jobs... let's celebrate the fact that we're all going to stick together! And to stand up for Jeremy! It'll be our... our..." her rosy cheeks had turned even redder in her frustrated fury, and clutching her fists tightly, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "... our 'F-You Frank Fiesta'!"

Much to everyone's surprise, Jeremy burst out laughing, and Heather soon followed.

"... 'F-You'... you just said... you can't even bring yourself to say..." Heather tried to speak in between breaths and laughter, but she rolled her head back and kept laughing.

"We'll even take my car... so I can drive and you guys can drink a little more if you want. Not TOO much, but... you know, within reason," Sophia offered.

"Whenever I've been sad, I usually just sit around alone and brood for a while... eventually, I feel better, but... I dunno, maybe I should see if having fun will take my mind off it faster," Jeremy commented, finally facing his friends again. "I mean, you already got me to laugh."

"Then... then you'll come with us?" Phil asked, feeling like his organs had floated back into place.

"Let's give this fiesta thing a try," Jeremy confirmed, his voice solid and his smile unwavering.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Wow, long chapter, and talk about mood swings.**

**I apologize if anyone was offended by the self-harm and homophobia in this chapter. I do not hold such views, obviously (I'm pansexual). Writing the self-harm scene for Jeremy was also uncomfortable for me because that scene was partially based on personal experience, and let's leave it at that.**

**But based on my drafted plans, the stuff next chapter should also be mostly light-hearted as well.**


	3. The F-You Frank Fiesta

_**C'est Toi, C'est Moi**_

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon. Also features my OCs and some character and plot interpretations that may not be canon based on future games.**_

**This chapter features alcohol, and while none of the characters actually drink to the point of becoming intoxicated, I just want to include a disclaimer to please practice healthy drinking habits - such as waiting until the legal age, know your limits, designate a driver, don't leave your drink unattended, don't buy alcohol for people under the age limit, and so on.**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 3: The F-You Frank Fiesta**

"Yesss...!" Heather pumped her fist as they stepped into Wings N Things, her first instinct to look at the bar. "Robert's in. Ginger beer mojitos tonight!"

She gave her name to the hostess, and they were led to a booth, under the dim orange glow of the overhanging lights.

"I wanted to be closer to the bar, but..." Heather shrugged, as she slid into a seat at the booth. "I can't stand the smell of cigarettes, and I figured everyone else would be more comfortable with non-smoking anyway."

"Yes, thank you very much," Sophia affirmed, taking a seat between Ronaldo and Phil.

The waitress arrived shortly after, taking orders for drinks - sweet tea for Sophia, cola for Ronaldo, and Heather was quick to order for her and her other two friends.

"Three ginger beer mojitos, please!" she demanded. "Tell Robert that Heather says hi."

"All right, but may I see your IDs, please?"

Phil, Jeremy, and Heather quickly produced their IDs, allowing the waitress to read them over briefly, before she handed them back with a satisfied "okay".

"So..." Sophia folded her hands together, lightly tapping them against the table. "... uh... classes. What kind of classes is everyone taking?_ ¿Cuáles clases acudes este semestre?_"

"English."

"I actually don't really know..." Phil commented with a shrug. "I have a temporary schedule figured out - just some business stuff - but it might change, since each manager can get a day off each week. It can't be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, since those are our busiest days... so I'm hoping for Monday or Wednesday, since a lot of classes tend to follow that Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule."

"And neither of us are in classes right now," Jeremy added, pointing to him and Heather.

"Oh, right... I'm sorry, that was a silly question!"

"No, it's not!" Phil stopped her. "You're interested in being a nurse, right, Sophia? What are your classes like?"

"This semester? I've actually got two labs, so that should be... neat," she winced. "They're tied in with the applied human anatomy and microbiology classes I'm taking. Maybe you can give me some pointers, Jeremy! You're a bio major, right? Or have you not taken micro yet?"

"I haven't taken micro yet, actually," Jeremy remarked. "I tried to stick to the semester plan they recommended at the college, so I'll be taking it in my senior year. It might be at different levels, though, because I'm supposed to take MCB 3020 and its lab."

"Oh... yeah, mine is 2000-something, so it might end up being easier..." she perked up. "That's okay, maybe _I'll_ be the one who helps _you_ study!"

Jeremy laughed.

"Easier?!" Heather scoffed. "All those gen-ed classes are like 2000-ish classes, but they always end up being the make-or-break ones!"

"That's true," Jeremy leaned back in his seat, knitting his brow, looking up at the ceiling. "CHM 2211... Organic Chemistry 2... I spent many a sleepless night thanks that damn class. So many carbons and oxygens and memorizing bond types and how they split... while I was swapping 'C's and 'H's and 'O's, I wound up swapping a lot of 'Z's for just one B."

"Poetry," Heather commented with a slow nod. "I didn't go through bio and chem hell, but I did have the joy of taking 3 semesters of calculus as well as physics classes that already had calc blended into them at the same time. I look at any numerical expression and it's like - bam. I know what that derivative is. _Oh!_"

She snapped her fingers, pointing at Jeremy.

"You know, you would like this friend of mine - Fritz - he kind of works in-between both our fields, 'cause he's pursuing bioengineering. He'll actually be starting his senior year at the university, so you might be able to get in touch with him."

"Really?" Jeremy and Phil both asked, before exchanging a look.

"You go ahead," Phil said.

"Oh, no, I was just going to say it sounds like a promising career, because there's a lot that can be done with it - like researching better soils and stuff - but that wasn't really my thing. There's probably more to it, but at face value, when it sounds like you're just researching dirt... it just kind of sounds boring," Jeremy opined with a shrug.

"Don't let Fritz catch you saying that. He's not interested in soil research, he's looking into biofuels and alternative energy. With all the fuss about fossil fuels contributing to pollution and stuff, he wants to reduce the need for gasoline and coal with water and wind and stuff. It's got merit, but I don't know if it'll catch on. Might take a decade or two," Heather cracked an awkward smile. "... Sorry if this doesn't make sense, Ronaldo."

"It's okay. I work hard in English, then I understand."

"Yeah, we're talking about... 'bee-oh-lo-gee-ah'?" Jeremy tried to pronounce.

"_Biología_," Ronaldo corrected. "Science with animals and plants, right?"

"Right, _biología_," Jeremy repeated back. "So, what were you gonna say, Phil?"

"Oh, uh, I was just going to point out that one of our employees from the old place studied bioengineering when he went to college. It's kind of funny, Heather, because he also works in security... but he's on the night shift, so... uh, it might be hard to meet him," Phil commented.

"If he got his degree in bioengineering, what the heck is he doing working minimum wage?" Heather asked.

"No, he... he only _studied_ the subject. He didn't get his degree. So that's, uh, kind of why he's stuck with us. Mr. Bur... uh, _John_ doesn't seem to mind too much, though. He's really got nerves of steel, nothing seems to phase him... which is a pretty good quality for a night guard, I guess. Especially since his broth-" Phil's eyes widened and he quickly changed the subject. "Uh, n-never mind, I've said too much. Hey, I think that's our waitress!"

Sure enough, she walked over with a tray carrying five glasses. She dropped off the tea, cola, and three mojitos before offering to take orders.

"Oh, shoot, we got so caught up in chatting, we forgot to look," Sophia noted.

"Yeah, we might need a few minutes," Heather stated.

"All right, take your time, and I'll come check on you in a little bit."

"There's so many flavors, though...!" Phil commented, eyes wide at the list of sauces, ranging from mild to hot. "How many are there, fifteen?"

"Twenty-one," Heather said with a wink. "But we'll take a look at that in a sec! First things first...!"

She raised her glass, and her friends did the same.

"Here's to our..." Heather paused to think for a moment, recalling whom she was sitting next to. "... friendship, and for those of us in school, here's hoping it's a good year!"

"_Cheers!_" everyone tapped their drinks together, the familiar clinking of plastic and glass colliding in a jovial promise before cups were tilted and beverages were consumed.

The mint in the mojito was pretty strong, but what really overwhelmed was the ginger beer - the flavor of the ginger tickling the nose while its carbonation - and the rum itself - created a rich burning sensation in the throat.

Phil was first to set his drink down after the first few sips, trying to breathe as he patted his chest with his other arm.

"_Whoo!_" Heather cheered with a hearty breath of air. "Now _that_'s a mojito!"

"Yeah, it's really good," Jeremy complimented, feeling the burn subside as he resumed reading over his menu.

"Isn't it? Like, I really love the ginger in it, because it burns you twice, like you have it going down your throat and also your nose at the same time, like..." Heather brought two fingers up, side by side, before separating them by drawing spirals in the air in opposite directions, almost like she had drawn out the symbol for Aries. "... I just love it! ... Uh... are your drinks okay too?"

"The tea's nice and sweet, just how I like it!" Sophia assured.

"My cola is... uh, it's cola. There's nothing special, I like it," Ronaldo commented with a shrug, but grinned. "Next year, I can have coke _and rum_."

"Good plan, man!" Heather praised, toasting briefly, before taking another drink. "So, about those wings..."

There was a platter for fifty wings available, allowing a party to pick from up to five flavors, so they decided to split one of those, with a flavor for each of them. 'Dragon Duo' - with the Asian flavors of sweet chili peppers and teriyaki. Sweet habanero. Spicy garlic. Honey barbecue, sweet and mild. And classic buffalo sauce... in the hottest variety available.

"Hey, Ronaldo... when you know more English, what do you think you'll major in?" Jeremy asked, gesturing for Sophia to hand him the pocket dictionary. "_Tu área principal de estudio, _your major?"

"Oh! Hmm..." Ronaldo furrowed his brow. "I don't know."

"Undeclared too, huh?" Phil asked with a sheepish grin. "We'll think of something eventually, right?"

"Right."

"Speaking of majors... heh, we keep coming back to biology, but..." Phil took a sip of his mojito before continuing. "Are you into anything specific in biology, Jeremy? For example, my aunt, Flora, got a degree in..."

"... Botany?"

"Nope, zoology, heheh. Or were you just thinking of pursuing generic biology to get into something big, like medicine or veterinary school?"

"Nah, I think that's too much pressure," Jeremy dismissed, waving it off. "I'm actually thinking of pursuing zoology too, to be honest. What's wrong, Sophia?"

She was frowning, appearing to be deep in thought.

"Is Flora from your dad's side of the family, like Frank?" she asked Phil.

"Uh-huh."

"... What's your mom's name?"

"Yoko. Why do you ask?"

"Oh... just curious," she shrugged and looked around the restaurant, at the televisions, trying to change the subject. "So, um, anyone into football?"

"_Yes,_" Phil and Ronaldo quickly confirmed.

"I know it is _American_ football. I like it too."

"So, who are you picking this year?" Sophia asked.

"Well, John Elway might be young, but he's looking really good. I bet this is the year the Broncos pull it off for sure," Phil pointed out.

"I think the Giants win again," Ronaldo offered.

"I dunno, I'm hearing a lot of good things about the Oilers...!" Sophia teased.

Some more small talk was exchanged before a server came out with their wings.

"Okay, Dragon Duo...!" he called out, his eyes on Phil.

"Oh, that's me," Jeremy answered, raising his hand.

The server carefully placed them in front of him, an embarrassed slowness to his pace, before moving onto the next plate of wings.

"Habanero...?" he asked, eyes on Ronaldo.

"_Those_ are mine," Phil stated with a nod.

The server didn't really try to guess anymore, just naming the wings and passing them out to everyone - spicy garlic for Ronaldo, mild barbecue wings for Heather, and the atomic buffalo for Sophia. The next few minutes were relatively quiet, with everyone stuffing their faces with chicken wings.

"Ahhhh... _that_ was great!" Heather sighed contentedly, placing another bone into the small pile on the side of her plate.

"How did you manage to eat those, though?" Phil asked Sophia, who had been licking some extra sauce off her fingers.

"Practice! My dad always loved spicy food, so I was often eating it, even as a child."

"I had you pegged as a spicy fan for sure," Phil commented to Heather, now turning his gaze to her. She shrugged.

"I can handle spicy stuff fine. I was just in the mood for somethin' sweet, that's all."

"How's everyone doing? Are we gonna need some boxes?" the waitress asked, stepping over to the table.

"Yes, and... are we ready for the check?" Phil asked, looking around at everyone, who nodded in agreement. "... and we're ready for the check."

The waitress nodded and left, leaving the five of them alone for a few minutes.

"So..." Heather's voice trailed off lazily, as a little smirk crept onto her face. "Anyone wanna play a quick round of 'Never Have I Ever'?"

"A game?" Ronaldo asked.

"Yeah, it's a drinking game," she tipped her glass to her mouth, pretending to take a sip. "You say something you have never done before. Like... 'never have I ever been to Antarctica'. If you _have_ been to Antarctica, you drink. If you have not been to Antarctica, you do not drink. If nobody else drinks, the person who said 'Never have I ever...' has to drink. Do you understand?"

"I think so, but..." he held up the dictionary. "... I am sorry if I am slow."

"Don't worry about it, it'll be okay. We'll try to keep the questions easy. Sophia, you keep track of who drinks."

"I, uh..." she quickly grabbed a pen and removed the paper with her friends' addresses and phone numbers on it, flipping it over to keep a tally. "... okay!"

"Do you want to start, Ronaldo?"

"I think I can," he said, turning to a page in the dictionary. "I have a good question."

"Ooh, okay!"

"Never have I ever worn... opposite... clothing!"

"That's kind of hard to define, because so much of men's clothing is treated as unisex nowadays, whereas traditionally feminine clothing like skirts and dresses are still seen as feminine and 'bad' for men, which says a lot about how society still views women..." Heather lectured. "... right, almost forgot, I'm the engineer, not the psychologist or activist. Anyway, I've always worn a lot of blue jeans or overalls, so I guess that counts."

She took a sip of her mojito, smiling as Sophia raised her tea in a toast, before she took a sip of tea. Slowly, Jeremy lifted his mojito to his lips as well.

"Rachel was sick on her 8th birthday... and I had the day off from school, so... we kind of had a 'fashion show'..." he mumbled against the glass.

"So that was only like what, five or six years ago?" Heather asked, but raised her glass. "You're, like, the best big brother ever. If Rachel ever needs reminding, tell her _I _said so."

Jeremy chuckled but didn't look anyone in the eyes.

"Sophia, you go?"

"Oh, okay! Hmmm... never have I ever..." her voice trailed off as she looked at Ronaldo seated beside her. "... traveled - _viajar _- outside my home country... _país de origen._"

"Oh! ... Unfair... sneaky!" Ronaldo complained teasingly with a pout, taking a sip of his cola. Phil and Heather each took a sip of their mojitos as well.

"All right, _Faz-Heir_, where have you been?"

"Oh, uh, nothing too fancy... some family-related travel. I was too young to really remember much, but I went to Italy when I was about five or six... and I got to visit my grandparents in Japan the summer I graduated high school."

"'Nothing fancy', says the guy who's traveled to two different continents," Heather scoffed with a grin. "I just went to Canada to see Niagara Falls. So, do you speak Japanese?"

"ああ。。。僕は日本語を少しだけ話せます."

"Uh... yes?"

"Oh, I just said that I can speak only a little Japanese. Same with Italian. Just basic conversational stuff," Phil explained with a shrug. "So, uh, my turn? Oh, uh, hold on..."

He paused just as the waitress dropped off a few foam boxes and a check presenter made of black faux leather.

"Um, does everyone have cash? _Dinero_?"

Everyone began shuffling through their pockets or wallets, eventually producing some bills and coins.

"I think it's fair that we each pay for a fifth of the wings, as well as whatever our drinks cost..." Sophia commented, taking a peek at the bill. "Oh, and contributing to the tip, of course!"

Everyone handed over a bill or even a few bills, and maybe even a few coins just to add a little more to the tip.

"So, Phil, do you have your question?"

"Oh, I think I do, heheh," he grinned cheekily. "Never have I ever... been kissed! By someone outside of the family, I mean."

Sophia took a quick sip of tea, before flipping through the pocket dictionary to translate for Ronaldo. He took a sip of cola as Heather and Jeremy set their mojitos down.

"Wh- really?!" Phil exclaimed, now in shock.

"Ooh, we got us an innocent one here!" Heather grinned. "Twenty-one years and you've never kissed anyone?"

"Well, I-I have been on a date at least!" he defended. "... Granted, it was only one date... to the movies... and the most I-I did was put my arm around her... which, uh, wound up being kind of awkward, since she was sitting on my right, so... uh... yeah, sh-she wasn't exactly comfortable with... with my... I-I didn't really think that move through."

He moved his hand and other arm beneath the table as he finished the story. Everything went quiet, until Jeremy realized that now everyone's eyes were on him.

"... I've kissed one of each."

"Cheers," Heather chuckled.

"The first one was actually a girl, for a silly party game... and no, that wasn't that 'definitive moment where you realize your preferences'. I already knew I was..." Jeremy's eyes shifted around the other tables, lowering his voice for one word, before resuming his original - and already low - volume. "... _gay_... even before that kiss. And the other one, well, that's... I don't really like talking about that one."

Jeremy frowned, and everyone decided to just write it off as just a bad ex. The waitress came by and picked up the check from the surprisingly silent table.

"Hey, uh, Jeremy, how about you ask the next question? I-I mean, if you want."

"Okay... never have I ever broken a bone. _Hueso..._" he checked the pocket dictionary. "... _roto._"

Ronaldo was first to take a sip, before pantomiming his fingertips jamming into his hand.

"Ooh, you broke a _finger_?" Heather asked with a wince, pointing to one of her fingers. "It seems so minor, but it probably hurts a lot."

Phil took a drink as well, holding out his left hand.

"Nine years old, I joined a junior football league. At nine, they start putting you in the tackle division. The coach put me on defense, because I wasn't expected to be good on offense, y'know, with receptions and stuff," Phil rolled his eyes, waving his hand, but smiled. "My third play, I put my hand up to block a pass and caught the ball. I remembered to tuck it against my body to hold onto it, but I wasn't very smart about _how_ I held it, and wound up falling right on my wrist. I really wanted to continue playing when I got better - heck, the coach even wanted me back - but my dad didn't want to risk more injuries. I played a little bit of soccer, but it just wasn't the same, you know?"

Sophia lowered her glass too, shaking her head.

"I broke my leg on my friend's trampoline when I was like six," she explained with a grimace, earning a few pained "ooh"s from her friends.

"All right, my turn!" Heather cheered, before lowering her voice.

"Okay, but - oh, thank you," Phil paused to thank the waitress as she left their receipts and a few mints before wishing them a good night. "... but make it a quick one, because I don't want to camp here... I know first-hand that it's a pain." **(1)**

"Okay, okay, it's the classic one... never have I ever had sex."

Everyone grew silent, even Ronaldo well aware of the statement - some things didn't need translating - casting glances around at each other.

Until finally... slowly, silently, hesitantly... Jeremy lifted his glass to his lips.

"NO WAY," Heather gasped.

"Keep your voice down!" Jeremy hissed, as he set the glass down, his cheeks red.

"So then... you did it with-"

"Yes," Jeremy quickly interrupted Sophia.

"... How was it?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes and gagged.

"O-Oh, you...!"

"WHOA, wait, no, it wasn't like _that_," he had to chuckle a little bit at her reaction. "It just... wasn't as great as I thought. I mean, nobody expects their first time to be amazing, but..."

He let out a resigned sigh.

"It could have been better, you know?"

"I'm sorry, Jeremy... um, I think Phil was right... we shouldn't camp too long," Sophia changed the subject, noticing Jeremy's discomfort, and picked up her box of leftovers. Everyone quickly and quietly did the same, starting to leave before Phil suddenly halted.

"Oh, shoot!" he reached into his pocket. "I think we forgot to tip!"

As he pulled out his wallet, a small trinket fell out as well, hitting the floor with a little 'tink'. Jeremy knelt down to pick it up - a decorative pin of some kind, resembling the custom tokens used at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

"You dropped this," Jeremy stated, holding it out to Phil as he returned from placing some money on the table.

"Oh, yeah, I must have put that back in my pocket the other day when I helped my uncle straighten up around the Prize Corner," Phil recalled. "It's just one of the little pins they give out as prizes. You can keep it if you want."

He mentally slapped himself, _no_, look what his uncle had done to Jeremy, why would he want anything to do with Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, with _him_, with -

"Sure, thanks," Jeremy smiled and tucked it into his pocket.

They stepped outside, heading for where Sophia had parked her car.

"Good thing we had everyone drive their cars back home before coming here... can't risk anyone driving home drunk."

"We only had one drink, I'd say we'd be fine driving home," Heather remarked. "But I guess it's better to be safe. We'll all chip in to pay back your gas money, Soph."

'Paying back'... Ronaldo frowned at this thought, handing his box of leftovers to Jeremy.

"Hey, what's up, do you need me to hold these?" he asked, balancing it on top of his own takeout box.

"Yes," Ronaldo confirmed. "I am... worried. If you do not have a job, you cannot buy food. If you cannot buy food, how will you eat?"

"I'll be okay, but thank you for your concern," Jeremy assured, handing the box back to Ronaldo. "My parents will give me money if I really need it... I'm sure. And I might find another job. In the worst scenario... I could always apply for a government program."

"Hey, come on! This is our F-You Frank Fiesta! We can't let this stuff get us down tonight!" Heather insisted, already claiming the front seat. "Sophia, your radio better have good speakers, because we're gonna sing our asses off!"

Songs by Bryan Adams, Duran Duran, Queen, Tears For Fears, Phil Collins, and Cyndi Lauper were part of the concert's program, as was a particularly breath-taking rendition of everyone practically screaming "Footloose" at the top of their lungs when they weren't overcome with laughter.

After Ronaldo had been dropped off, Jeremy's apartment was the closest, so he was dropped off next.

"Good night, Jeremy!" three voices called out from the car.

"Good night, guys! Thanks for the ride, I'll call you again soon!"

It was hard to stay in a bad mood with friends like these, Jeremy thought, as he strolled up the steps and unlocked his apartment door.

"Hey, Pat," he greeted his housemate, lounging on a couch in the small living room they shared.

"Hey. Have a good night?" Pat replied, as Jeremy tucked his leftovers into the fridge.

"Yeah. How was your night?"

"Eh. Just stayed home and watched TV, you know," Pat shrugged. "By the way, someone named Leslie called while you were out... you should probably call her back tomorrow, she said it was important."

Jeremy removed the pin Phil had given him from his pocket - just like the tokens, with a big capital 'F' engraved in it. 'F' for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, for friends doing stuff together, for fortune, and for a big fat '_fuck_ you, Frank'.

He smiled, tucking it back in his pocket, as he took a seat by Pat and watched the news.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**(1) Camping is a term used by restaurants to describe patrons who overstay their welcome, like sitting around and chatting despite having paid the bill.**

**Sorry that this chapter turned out shorter than the other two, and that there wasn't as much Phonemy. Next chapter should fix that.**


	4. A Proper Party

_**C'est Toi, C'est Moi**_

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon. Also features my OCs and some character and plot interpretations that may not be canon based on future games.**_

**Since I've gotten a question or two about it, I thought I would take a second to clarify - Phil Fazari IS Phone Guy.**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 4: A Proper Party**

_August 10, 1987_

Was it the narrow side that crossed over first... or the wide side?

Phil faced his expression in the mirror with a frown, already dressed for work, save for the necktie draped around his neck. He held up one end of it with his hand. Sure, he had learned to tie a necktie with one hand, thanks to a video for stroke survivors... but that didn't make it easy, fidgeting with fingers and even using the end of his other arm to try to get the narrow end to sweep around correctly.

Of course, his uncle would be in for an entire shift that day - the hours for Monday through Thursday were twelve to nine, but allowing an hour for opening and closing, it technically came out to an eleven-hour workday - so goodness knows a knot in a necktie would be one of many things Frank would gripe about. That and children. Children, wanting to savor their last days of freedom before elementary school resumed next week. And the week after that, college classes would resume, and Phil would most likely be taking on the afternoon and evening shifts at work. Much to his dismay, the guaranteed free day given to him by the company was Thursday, which didn't offer as many classes as the Monday-Wednesday-Friday scheme.

However, that had given him a new idea for planning his schedule. No classes Thursday, that would be his goal, as he already had plans to reschedule his classes on the upcoming Thursday. That would be his big day off to study or hang out or do whatever he wanted. And once he had his schedule figured out, he might have limited availability on any given day, so that was another day off too. Of course, that didn't change the fact that almost his entire work schedule would probably come from Saturdays and Sundays... trying to work a job and get an education at the same time was no walk in the park.

Right, walk. Or rather, drive. Phil needed to get moving. He grabbed an apple and a pack of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen and headed out the door, locking it behind him. He lived alone, so there was no need to worry about waking up any housemates. He headed down the steps, climbed into his Sable, and took a big bite out of the apple as he pulled out of his parking spot.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Morning... Phil," Heather greeted with a yawn, unlocking the door for him, a large styrofoam cup with a lid in her hand. "... Do you remember if we have a coffee pot?"

"Uh... I don't think we do...? I mean, I can speak with my uncle about buying one for the employee lounge... but..." he pointed to the cup in her hand. "... why are you asking if..."

"Oh, this?" Heather asked, looking at the cup in her hand with a smile. "That guy, John... he was on his way out when I stopped by. Saw me yawning and said 'oh, I know how you feel. I was on my way to buy some coffee, would you like a cup before your shift starts?' so I just told him yes, and several minutes later, he drove back with some coffee for me. There's not enough creamer and too much sugar in it, but it's not like he knows my tastes. Plus... how many guys do you know who are nice enough to go out and buy you coffee despite hardly knowing them?"

"Oh, yeah, John's super friendly! I saw him a few days ago when he came back to be our night guard. He's actually been with the company for quite a while, three or four years, I'd say," Phil agreed with a nod.

Heather silently sipped her coffee as they walked down the hallway together, heading to the game room, the area silent save for the clinking notes of that familiar music box.

"... John wouldn't happen to be related to _Martin_ Burgess, would he?" she asked, as a few cheerful notes rattled away. Phil stared at her blankly.

"Friday night, you briefly spoke about John... you stopped yourself from calling him Mr. B-something, and you also mentioned a brother..." Heather investigated.

"H-how would you remem... uh, what makes you think that? You were drinking!"

"_Drinking_, yes... _drunk_, no," Heather clarified. "Not to mention I saw the news story on Sunday night... the resemblance is uncanny."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..."

"You didn't watch the local news?" Heather asked. "Of course, Frank 'declined an interview', but they still covered the pizzeria's reopening. And when they did, they talked about the _incident_ at the old pizzeria a few years ago."

Phil remained silent, his face paling.

"A total of five children went missing, and security footage identified the suspect as Martin Burgess, who worked the later hours of -"

Phil clapped his hand over her mouth, noticing one of the kitchen staff members arriving, pushing Heather backstage. Once there, he removed his hand from her mouth.

"You know, rude guy, I don't think curtains are soundproof..."

"Oh, hush. Look, what happened is awful, a-and tragic, but for the company's sake, we have to avoid bringing up the incident. It's a touchy subject, you know?" Phil asked. "Martin was also a nice guy... we didn't think he would be capable of such a thing, and h-he even broke down in court when they issued the sentence... but life cannot be replaced, and what happened to those kids was far, far worse... it's bizarre that he only got a life sentence rather than... the d-death penalty..."

"Gives him a lifetime to think about what he's done. If he's as remorseful as you say, just knowing that he has to look at himself each day and think '_it was me_' will be punishment enough. Almost."

"We never did solve the mystery of how Martin fit in the suit... there were some cuts along the seams, uh, probably to make it easier to move in... but it would still be such a tight fit," Phil wondered, imagining John and Martin standing side by side.

The Burgess brothers were only a year apart, but the contrast in their body frames and - curiously - mustache size was almost comedic. Unlike John's gaunt figure, Martin had more than enough meat on his bones; whereas Martin's mustache barely reached the corners of his lips, John's mustache was bushy and wild, almost to the point that it reached nearly halfway across his bony cheeks. Frank had criticized him for his unruly facial hair, but John smooth-talked him into letting him keep it, considering that he wasn't seen during regular hours by the customers anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll keep quiet," Heather grumbled. "... but what about the other rumors? There has to be a good reason why the old Bonnie and his buddies stink so bad."

"The original mechanics stated that i-it was... you know the old establishment? We, uh, we kind of ran into health code violation issues. For one thing, uh, let's just say we don't use the cotton candy powder for cleaning purposes any more... it was gross already, using it to soak up 'messes', but... uh... it kind of made some local wildlife want to join the band. Some raccoons infested the place, and a few curious ones tried to climb inside the heads of the animatronics... until they, uh, got stuck and then... moving jaws and gears... yeah."

"Dead animals trapped in animatronics, huh?" Heather scoffed.

"That is what happened. Our company did nothing wrong," Phil argued. "L-look, let's just drop the subject. We really need to set up for work."

"... All right," Heather smiled briefly, realizing she had wound up sitting next to Bonnie, and patted his robotic leg. "Better go make sure George isn't tripping on wires... if he's even here yet."

She stood up, helping Phil to his feet as well, before opening the curtain to walk out and find a _limp slender figure hanging in front of them_ - a marionette suspended by wires that ran along the ceiling, large enough that its head rested near the ceiling yet its gangly legs dangled down to the floor.

"OH, GOD, NO!" Phil practically shrieked, shielding his eyes.

"I can't believe this," Heather laughed, holding the puppet's hand. "First Jeremy and Bonnie, now you and Merry?"

"Merry? You _named_ it?!"

The puppet's head actually turned, its dark soulless eyes staring back at Heather.

"Okay... so maybe it is a little unnerving," she admitted, looking away. "But Merry just hangs out in his box as long as his music's playing. Guess we better crank up that song for you, huh?"

Still refusing to look it in the eyes, she held onto the puppet's hand and led it back to the Prize Corner. Phil's path diverged slightly, heading for a small equipment station near the back of the Game Area where two or three tanks of helium lined the wall. Phil removed a pack of balloons from a shelf, slipping the neck of a purple one over the nozzle before filling it.

Oh, yeah... Jeremy... how was he doing today? Did he ever hear back from the other places he applied for? Or had he spoken with his parents about money? What if he was in some government office right now, so overcome with desperation that he felt like he would -

_**POP!**_

The balloon Phil had been inflating popped and he jumped slightly... he had forgotten how quickly they filled up. Actually paying attention this time, he filled up a few balloons, knotting their ends and tying them to the ends of foil ribbons, keeping the opposite end of the ribbons pinned under his shoe as he worked.

"_Hello!_"

Another testament to the impressive AI in the animatronics, one of the newest models had walked over. The new character introduced by Fazbear Entertainment, BB, who gave out balloons in the Game Area.

"Hello, hello!" Phil replied, gathering the strings of the balloons in his hand. "How about we go put these at your station?"

BB laughed, walking beside Phil, practically half as short as the man in the goldenrod polo. Of course, once he realized he needed to tie a knot to secure the balloons to a nearby stand, he quickly called for assistance.

Next, Phil went to help out in the arcade section of the Game Area, just in time to stop George from winding up the tickets in the opposite direction on one of the skeeball machines. Phil briefly caught a glance of Heather shaking her head out of the corner of his eye, as she turned on the _Rygar_ arcade game.

He went through all of the stations systematically - even peeking in on Kids Cove, where Loxy greeted him with her Southern belle accent.

"_Why, stranger! I don't think we've seen you around here before!_" she gasped. "_Have we, Foxanne?_"

"_Nope! What's your name?_"

Heather had described Loxy as interesting to put together, as she was basically two endoskeletons-in-one - the second one functioning as her ventriloquist dummy, 'Foxanne', basically a smaller version of her. The metallic head was actually the only part of an endoskeleton needed for Foxanne; the rest of her was more comparable to an actual doll, like a true ventriloquist dummy.

"Uh, Phil... and I-I was just... uh... checking things," he explained.

Not that there was much to check on the first day... after all, the ball pit was clean and full, there was no need to clean out the neon-colored cylindrical cubbies where children would store their shoes, the crawling tunnel that ran around the room was fine, and Loxy was just... Loxy.

"_Be seeing you around!_" Loxy called after him as he left, with Foxanne throwing in a little "_Bye-bye!_"

"Uh... yeah!" he replied over his shoulder.

Granted, these were just automated responses - there was no way animatronics were smart enough to communicate with people - but it felt strange that he could almost have a basic conversation with these things.

Phil checked his watch as he walked into the main hallway - 12:07pm, right on cue to open. He looked up with a smile at Janet, situated by the door as a greeter, as he braced himself for the onslaught of children.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Frank roared, clutching two handfuls of his hair. "It's been six hours, and we haven't had a freaking customer?"

"W-well, it is a Monday," Phil tried to write it off. "There's probably parents at work who can't bring their kids in, so they settle for summer camp... or something. It'll get better - "

"It was because of that damn news broadcast, I _know_ it," Frank snarled, pacing down the hallway. "It's the last week of summer, and there's going to be over-protective parents keeping their kids at home, instead of letting them come here, and our prime business week is going to go down the drain. _Ugh!_"

He grumbled a few more things under his breath, barely audible thanks to the sound effects of some of the employees "testing" the arcade games.

"Look, Phil, why don't you just go back to your apartment and do some studying? We might as well close EARLY tonight at this rate..."

"But Uncle, I'm not in class yet, and some of our employees might need those hou-"

"Around here, I'm your manager, not your uncle, so just go home and... I dunno. Watch TV? Play one of those 'Aterry' video games? Whatever. Anything's better than sitting around here and doing nothing."

It was highly unprofessional, but Phil complied, clocking out and bidding farewell to Ronaldo - the only friend of his still working on the clock. Phil couldn't help but smile proudly, as the other kitchen workers were among those 'testing' the arcade. Ronaldo was the only one in the kitchen, seated against the wall, intent on studying some of the words in his dictionary.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 11, 1987_

"YESSSS! Haha! I _knew_ it was just an off day!" Frank cheered, pumping a fist into the air, as Phil arrived to start his shift.

"Unc- Mr. Fazari?" he asked, starting to head for the punchclock in the back.

"Go punch in, I'll explain in a sec," he stated, waving him towards the back.

Phil punched in and hurried back quickly.

"What's got you so, uh, excited? I don't normally see you this happy..." Phil remarked.

"We already got our first party planned!"

"Oh!" Phil exclaimed in excitement. "... oh. Um, when is it?"

"Friday!"

"Friday. And we can handle-"

"Oh, sure, I already placed Emmett in charge, and I'm sure he'll do fine."

"Emmett. Who is new."

"It's going to be fine, _Phillip_, he can handle it," Frank's tone soured. "There's only supposed to be, like, seven kids anyway."

"I guess seven isn't _too_ much for a first party. How bad could it be, right?"

Before Phil could say anything else, a child's whining could be heard from Kids' Cove, and he looked over in that direction.

"Mooooom! Toby peed in the tubes!"

Phil grimaced and looked back, only to find that in one of his rare shows of agility, his uncle had completely disappeared. He sighed, yelled that he would be there in one second, and departed to one of the storage rooms for gloves, sanitizer, paper towels, and a trash bag.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 14, 1987_

Phil let out a huff of air as he stepped into Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for the day.

_Lucky Emmett._

Emmett Campbell was a linebacker for the university's football team, but only as a walk-on, meaning he never actually played and dressed on the off chance the starting linebacker and the back-up both were injured... which was probably never going to happen. And though the gods had granted him a nice beefy figure for football, they had not been so generous when it came time to distribute brains. As a result, he was sometimes careless when he had practiced for setting up for parties - such as making four cuts into a cake rather than making three cuts to produce four _rows_ of cake slices.

However, both he and his uncle would be there to catch any mistakes Emmett might make. But with Emmett hosting the party, he was sure to earn a few tips that afternoon... and considering he would likely boast about being on the football team, there might even be some sporty parents who would chip in a little extra for him.

_Why, Dad, why did you not let me be a football player?_ Phil thought to himself with a sigh. He closed his eyes and braced for the worst when he heard an angry roar from his uncle down the hallway.

"SICK?! YOU CAN'T BE SICK, THE PARTY IS TODAY!" Frank yelled.

Phil's eyes snapped open and he hurried into the managerial office.

"Your stomach...? Well, can't you just hold it in?! ... Maybe it was just something you ate, and it left your system! ... You could be lying about that fever for all I know!" Frank looked over his shoulder as Phil stepped in through the doorway. "... All right, I'll believe you this ONE. TIME... Yeah, bye."

He slammed the phone down with a growl.

"Campbell's out sick," Frank grumbled, kneading the wrinkles in his forehead with one hand.

"I, uh, I kind of figured that was the case," Phil replied, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

"Well, at least the papers are still here," Frank muttered, holding up the party brochure, before shoving it against Phil's chest. "You have experience hosting parties, so I'm gonna leave this up to you."

"M-me?!" Phil squeaked, gathering up the papers in his arms.

"I'm the manager, you have the experience, what's not to understand?" Frank grumbled. "Look, I'll help you roll out the tables and carry out cake, but the planning and entertaining shtick is more of your thing."

"Okay, okay..." Phil flipped through the papers, finally coming to the initial order brochure, written out in Emmett's blocky handwriting.

_Party For: _**Tyler Proper**

_Guest will be _**6**_ years old._

_Expect _**6 **_additional guests._

"Uncle... you said there would be seven _children _at this party, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

Phil let out a groan_. _

_Darn it, planners have to account for parents as well! Nice going, Emmett._

Okay, no biggie. He could at least make an estimation. One of Tyler's parents might still have work, so the other one would have to bring them by. These were still fairly young children, so there may be a few who needed a parent around... and there was always a chance of the "last minute guest addition", even though it was highly unprofessional.

Food allergies was listed as **no**, so Phil could only hope Emmett had written that down correctly. **Cheese** was the only type of pizza requested, and the cake requested was **white chocolate**. So, a half-vanilla, half-chocolate cake. Darn Emmett, he'd probably tell someone his favorite flavor of candy was 'red' rather than 'cherry'. Okay, maybe that was kind of rude.

Phil hurried into the kitchen.

"Okay, everyone! Uh... our first real party is today, a-and I know everyone's a little nervous, but just remember what we've practiced, and everything should be fine. We're going to need two medium cheese pizzas and a vanilla-chocolate cake for a party at two, and I know you guys can do it. How about... Ronaldo and Kim make the pizzas, and Bruce makes the cake?"

"Yes, sir!" Ronaldo agreed, Kim and Bruce also going along with it.

What next? Right, decorations. Sophia helped him lay out the paper placemats, cups, and party hats in Party Room 1, while Frank and one of the waiters, Jason, hung up banners. The second Phil had put down the last party hat, he immediately headed for the registers, gethering the special plastic cups for holding tokens and filling them up - six tokens for the child guests, fourteen for the birthday guest. He got a little side-tracked when he realized that a woman and two boys had walked in - panicking briefly that the party guests were arriving an hour early - but she was just a mother wanting an hour of peace to read while her sons played.

As Phil did a quick sweep of the restrooms and main halls to make sure they were clean and spotless, he was interrupted by the screams of two children and a horrifying metallic _crash_.

Oh no, oh no, he began to panic, first the issues at the old restaurants, now one of the games must have tipped and fell on one of the boys or maybe even their mother and his uncle was nowhere to be found and-

"CHICA, _NOOO!_" Heather's cries shook Phil's thoughts and he bolted into the area just in front of the stage.

The two boys stood several feet away from where Heather knelt over Chica's face-down figure. As a whole, the animatronic didn't look _too _bad... except for the metallic beak, eyelids, and eyeballs that had scattered a few feet away.

"_It's just a boo-boo, I'll be fine!_" the animatronic chirped.

"All right, that's good," Heather replied, looking up at Phil. "Well, if it isn't our assistant manager! Responsibly checking on everything!"

Her smile indicated her words were genuine, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I-I got worried when I heard the crash. Are the boys okay? A-and what about Chica?"

"The kids are alright," Heather confirmed, nodding over her shoulder to the boys. "As for Chica, all the animatronics have some basic self-diagnostic programming that can check for any mechanical issues, and they use codenames for it to keep things in-character around the kids . 'Boo-boo', as you can guess, just means a minor mechanical error... since I've gotta give her a little facial before the party gets here."

She helped Chica off the ground, giving Phil a chance to see her face. Even without her eyes and beak, Chica still appeared to have a big smile on her face... even if her eye sockets and mouth looked like a dark void. Kind of off-putting, actually.

"But... what caused her to break in the first place?" Phil asked.

"A programming error. She walked straight off the stage, rather than taking the steps. I've seen Freddy and Bon-Bon take the steps just fine, but Chica doesn't for some reason..." Heather frowned. "But I can't do anything about that - I'm a mechanic, not a programmer. I put the parts together, I don't tell them what to do."

_Sounds like a metaphor for bad parenting_, Phil thought to himself with a small smirk. Speaking of parents, he turned around to look at the boys.

"Hey guys! Uh, Dr. Carras is going to have to give Chica a check-up, so... why don't you go play some skeeball? Yeah! Come on, the machines are over here, show me how a champ rolls the ball!"

Phil lead the kids over to the skeeball machines, and after watching them roll a few balls up the lane, he swiftly dashed away to finish the party preparations.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Are you gonna be okay, Ronaldo?" Phil asked.

Ronaldo - or rather, Freddy Fazbear - clapped his hands together and gave him two thumbs up before they both stepped outside, Phil carrying a clipboard with the attendance sheet on it. A few minutes passed, until finally a car arrived in the parking lot and a woman and her son came out, the woman carrying a few wrapped presents in her arms.

"There they are...!" Phil whispered loudly, bouncing slightly in excitement. 'Freddy' clapped his hands together a few times, before crouching down to make himself appear smaller.

"Hello, hello, and welcome to the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!" Phil greeted brightly with a sparkling smile. "Would your name happen to be Tyler?"

"YEAHHH!" the little boy yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Haha, I think someone knows it's his birthday, right, Freddy?" Phil asked. Freddy put a hand to his belly and one to his mouth, leaning back and rocking as though he was shaking with laughter. "And you must be Ms. Proper!"

"Yeah, I sure am!" she laughed half-heartedly. "Now, could you give me a hand with these?"

"Yes, ma'am, right this way!" Phil agreed, opening the door for her and her son, glancing inside to catch the eye of any employee he could find. Luckily, it was not George Thornton.

"Hey, Irene, can you help the Propers to Party Room 1, please? Thank you!"

Irene may have just been a janitor, but that meant she was at least good at carrying heavy objects, and she was quick to step in and help out. Phil checked off Tyler's name on the list - one down, six more to go.

Another few minutes passed, and another guest arrived - unfortunately, she screamed and cried at the sight of Freddy, so he covered his face and gave her a shy little wave of his hand as her father carried her in - so Mikaela Vaneer was accounted for.

Austin Carmichael, Troy Finch, Mark Lepier, and Kylie Foust all arrived together a minute later, one parent agreeing to chaperone the four.

Finally, one last mother arrived, her son compliant to walk up with her to the door... before giggling and trying to run down the sidewalk. Despite his heavy suit, Freddy only needed to sprint a short distance to get in front of the boy's path, putting his arms down in front of him like a football player about to make a block. The boy copied the gesture, just in time for his mom to snatch him right back up and carry him inside - Alexander McDaniels, the final guest.

"All right, that's everyone, 'Freddy'!" Phil affirmed, patting his shoulder. "Let's get you back inside."

As they walked down the main hallway, Freddy exchanging a few limp high-fives with some of the kids... he started to lean... a little... ... too far... to the... right...

... and Phil quickly wrapped his arms around his left arm, pulling him upright.

"Uh-oh, I-I-I think Freddy needs a little bit of time to practice for, uh, hi-BEAR-nation!" Phil flashed an uncomfortable smile, still holding onto his arm. "We'll be right back!"

Almost dragging him now, Phil hurried 'Freddy' back into the employees-only area, pulling the Freddy head off as soon as they were out of sight, and heading straight for the first-aid office rather than the costume and props area.

"Phil? Ronaldo?!" Sophia gasped, as Phil lead him in, seating him on the foam cot, removing his gloves and starting to pull the feet and the leggings off of the costume.

Sweat trailed down Ronaldo's face, only accentuating the faint pallor his skin was taking on. Sophia immediately started running some cold water, filling a paper cup in one hand and dampening a paper towel in another. She helped him hold the cups to his lips, placing the towel against the back of his neck.

"_Gracias_," he whispered faintly, trying to smile.

"_De nada_, what happened to you?" she asked, placing her fingers to his wrist to check his pulse.

"It was my fault," Phil explained quickly, now darting over to the sink for more wet paper towels. He removed Ronaldo's shoes and socks, and wrapped them around his ankles. "I-I'm sorry, it was my fault... it was close to the twenty minute cut-off time, but the last guest arrived and the kid tried to run, so Ronaldo ran to stop him... I-I should have done something, I'm sorry, _lo siento_, uh..."

He kept silently removing the costume, slipping the outer body off and removing the suspenders that held up Freddy's "thighs".

"The_..._ party..." Ronaldo said, standing up briefly so Phil could remove the thighs.

"Don't worry about it," Phil stated, fanning him off with the clipboard. "I... I'll find someone else to wear it..."

Unfortunately, the only two candidates at work at the time who would fit the Freddy suit were George Thornton... and Frank. And Frank, as much as he hated it, had at least some experience with wearing the costume.

"Is he going to be okay?" Phil asked, looking between Ronaldo and Sophia.

"He's sweating, and he didn't throw up, so that's a good sign... he got overheated, but as long as he keeps drinking water and staying cool, he'll be okay. Phil, you're my friend, but don't you EVER let him stay in that costume for too long EVER again."

"I-I know, I swear I'm usually way more careful, honest, I... I, uh..."

"Party..." Ronaldo reminded him slowly, pointing toward the door.

"I... okay. I-I'm going to try asking my uncle to take on costume duty. I mean, it's just for the cake a-and a little bit of interaction afterward..." he looked over at the Freddy head in the corner of the room. "I'm so sorry, Ronaldo... feel better soon."

He patted Ronaldo's knee and swiftly hurried out of the room, on a quest to find his intimidating uncle.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Aside from the scare with Ronaldo, the rest of the party seemed to go pretty smoothly. After spending an hour running around the facility and spending their tokens, the kids were content with the animatronic show as they ate their pizza - though there had been a complaint about no pepperoni - with Chica functioning properly onstage as if she had never taken that terrible fall.

As the curtains closed, Phil stepped up to the front of the stage.

"All right, everybody!" He cheered, throwing his arms up over his head to get the kids pumped up. "Are you ready for Freddy?!"

"YEAH!" The children echoed, also throwing their hands into the air.

And then, of course, came the inevitable child who would always say that one thing that always made Phil's gut twist inside.

"Hey, he's missing a hand!"

Oh, and pointing fingers, too. That always helped. But he always had that creative comeback that always won parents over as well -

"Aye, matey, ye be right!" Phil confirmed, putting on his best pirate accent, sweeping his right arm for show. "Can't go wearin' me pirate hook around the kids... the last time I swung me arm like that, I nearly gave Cap'n Foxy another eyepatch!"

"Who's Foxy? Who's Cap and Foxy?"

"Where are the pirates?"

"I know - I know - I know, you mean Loxy! Loxy has a puppet, she's not a pirate!"

Oh, right... these kids were only about five or six... too young to remember the original gang and the original Foxy.

"Oh, heh... I-I almost fergot..." Phil's voice trailed off, his accent growing weaker. "Uh... Foxy went away on another voyage and asked me to keep an eye on things here."

"Did another pirate cut it off?"

"I bet a shark bit it off!"

"What happened to your hand, why is it gone?"

In parties in the past, the kids just went with the hook story, thinking Foxy and Phil made a cool pirate team. They had never pushed questions this far, and even if the answer was as simple as 'I was just born this way', it still left feeling Phil kind of flustered. But Miss Proper - a fitting name for that one parent who was kind and apologized for their kids behavior - beckoned him over with a smile on her face.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked softly.

"... Maybe you should just, you know, keep your 'bad hand' in your pocket, so the kids don't have to see it?" she suggested softly. "No offense, but I think it would make things less weird for the kids."

He forced himself to smile in return, tucking the end of his arm into his pocket.

"O-oh, right... good idea, I-I hadn't considered that..." he agreed submissively, returning to the front of the stage.

"C-Come on, we don't want to wait for cake forever...!" Phil pumped his left arm above his head. "Who's ready for Freddy...?"

"READY!" screamed the children in joy, some of them bouncing in their seats.

"Okay! I-I'll go get him...!"

He practically bolted out of view, heading towards the employee-only area. Frank saw his nephew approaching, nodded with a drawn-out sigh, and stepped into the costume and props room to change. While he waited, Phil took a second to peek in the first aid area.

Ronaldo was asleep on the cot now, his head propped up against Sophia's thigh, as she read through her dictionary. She looked up when she heard Phil approach, quickly placing a finger to her lips.

Phil pointed at Ronaldo, mouthing 'is he okay' to her. Sophia smiled and nodded back. Phil smiled, giving her a thumbs up, before heading to the kitchen, where Kim and Bruce had the cakes ready. He struck a match, lighting up the candles on the circular cake reserved for Tyler, having Kim carry it while Bruce handled the larger cake for the rest of the guests. Phil collected the cake slicing and serving tools and nodded for them to head out of the kitchen.

Frank - now clad in the Freddy costume - stood out in the hallway tapping his foot.

"Okay, let's go!" Phil confirmed, walking ahead to open the door.

Freddy led the birthday parade, clapping his hands together as he lead Kim and Bruce through the Game Area and out to the show stage area, Kim and Bruce awkwardly cheering little "woohoo!"s and "yeah!"s with their hands full carrying cake. Phil brought up the rear, passing off the supplies to Kim like a baton as she placed the cake in front of Tyler.

"Okay, everybody sing! One, two, three...!"

The usual chorus of 'Happy birthday' filled the air, a few of the guests from the general public even joining in and cheering at the end. Tyler silently made his wish and blew out the candles, followed by everyone applauding. A few of the kids had dashed over to immediately hug Freddy - one of them even trying to push him over - but they were quickly drawn back to their seats when Bruce's voice filled the air.

"WHO WANTS CAKE?!"

As Kim sliced the cake and distributed it among the children and parents who wanted it, Tyler had immediately plowed into his personal cake, wolfing it down with a sugar-happy grin. Ms. Proper took a slice of cake, examining it.

"... This isn't the cake we ordered."

"I-I'm sorry?" Phil asked.

"I told Emmett that I wanted white chocolate cake for my son's birthday," Ms. Proper stated, folding her arms, tilting her head in the direction of the slice on her plate - a layered cake, half-vanilla, half-chocolate. "And he agreed. That chocolate is brown, and I have a feeling the white is vanilla."

"We, uh, we don't have white chocolate batter, ma'am, I'm sorry... I-I don't know if they even make such a th-"

"Then Emmett should have said something."

_Nice going, Emmett._

Ms. Proper let out a sigh, looking over at her son who continued gobbling down his cake happily.

"Can't you see you're ruining his birthday? We didn't get the cake we wanted, so I'm not paying."

Phil looked over at Freddy - despite dancing with some of the kids, he could feel his uncle's eyes boring into him from within the suit. Oh great, Ms. Proper had turned out to be the 'customer-satisfaction-guaranteed-so-i-want-it-free' type.

"We'll just, uh, we'll scratch the cake off the bill for you, ma'am," Phil reassured, his voice growing quiet.

Tyler ended up having a fantastic birthday, receiving all kinds of neat toys from his friends, taking home a cool plastic spider he exchanged tickets for, and he and his friends left happily at 4:30 - not to mention his mother, with a discounted bill and even the store manager himself offering an apology and a few extra tokens to Tyler... on behalf of Freddy, he said with a wink.

"Well, time to clean up..." Phil sighed, heading out of the parking lot after escorting the Propers to their car.

"No, you're going on break," Frank insisted, his brow furrowed. "After that performance, I'm not really in the mood to deal with you right now, so why don't you go eat your pizza with your friends in the kitchen or something."

"N-nah, I'm good," Phil waved it off with a smile. "I was in the mood to buy lunch today, you know, just because."

He hurried past his uncle, punching out for his break, and hurried right back out of the pizzeria, climbing into his Mercury Sable, his lips pressed in a solemn straight line the entire way.

To be honest, Phil didn't really know what he wanted for lunch. He wasn't even that hungry. All he wanted was an escape, to get out of there, to leave the memories of that terrible afternoon behind as he drove out of the parking lot.

Music. Music would make him feel better. He turned on the radio. Commercials. He turned off the radio.

Classes. Think about classes. He had been to the counseling session on Thursday, and sure enough, he managed to schedule around Thursday completely - the one day of the week he could do whatever he wanted or needed. Thursday was his guaranteed escape. His Monday schedule was packed, so he would likely wind up getting that day off as well once he changed his work availability hours. Biology first thing in the morning, to meet his general education requirements. A public relations class immediately after that, and a double-block of a course on advertising immediately after that. He had a class period off to eat lunch, and then a three-period-block for an elective that interested him... 'Happiness Psychology'.

Happiness. He was an optimistic guy, it was a fitting class for him. He curled the corners of his lips upward - there, he was smiling, like he always was. His uncle was just being grumpy, like he always was, and the next event would go better, like it always did, and therefore he was happy, Phil told himself.

Wiping at his eyes, trying to soothe the growing stinging sensation, he decided to quickly pull over to the next fast food place or store he saw and just grab whatever he saw before his darn vision got too blurry.

There was a Picnix grocery store at the corner, only five minutes away from Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. They had a deli that sold subs, so that would be a nice change. He pulled into the grocery store's parking lot and walked inside, eyes on the ground and hands in his pockets.

The lady who prepared his sub, Shelby, seemed really nice. She didn't say anything, aside from asking what vegetables and condiments he wanted on the sub, but she seemed to know he was having a bad day, so she made sure to put the largest slices of provolone on his ham sub before putting it in the toaster oven. It came out warm and with gooey melted cheese thirty seconds later, just asking for lettuce, tomato, onions, mayo, and brown mustard on top.

Sub in hand, he thanked her and left. There were a good number of people in Picnix now - probably not on lunch break like he was, but rather to buy groceries. He still couldn't shake the feeling of having people stare at him, even if he was just another customer here and not one of the assistant managers of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

_Just don't look at anybody and just check out, nobody knows you, nobody will recognize you, you can go back to work and you will be that much closer to the end of this miserable-_

"Hey, Phil. I can take you over here."

Cashiers reading nametags didn't count. He frowned, eyes still low, as he placed his sub and a can of cola on the belt.

"... Not the best day at work, I take it?"

Phil shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Ugh, Jeremy, you would not _believe_ how badly Em-" he froze in mid-sentence, looking up with a completely stupefied look on his face. "_Jeremy?!_"

"Yeah, it's me," he confirmed, smiling a little brighter.

It _was_ him, now dressed in the Picnix uniform of a green polo, black slacks, and a black apron - complete with a plastic nametag with a sticker bearing his name, as well as...

"That pin..." Phil commented, eyes on the pin he had just handed over to Jeremy only a week ago without a thought.

"Yeah, the same day you gave it to me, I found out from my housemate that Leslie called me about the job. I went in on Saturday, and sure enough, she offered me a spot on registers immediately," Jeremy adjusted the pin between his fingers, straightening his posture as though he was showing it off like a medal. "I like to think of it as my good luck charm."

A smile - a real one - spread across Phil's face.

"That's great! Oh, Jeremy... I'm not gonna lie, I was worried about you," Phil admitted, placing a hand to his chest.

"Well, now you've got nothing to worry about! I'm going to be alright," Jeremy's voice softened. "... How about you?"

"Me? Oh, pfff, come on, it's me! Phil! I-I'm like everyone's go-to guy for motivation and happiness, you know?" he laughed, wiping away a lone tear that escaped down his cheek. "Just these... darn allergies have my eyes all red and watery lately, you know?"

"Yeah, we all have bad days with allergies," Jeremy agreed, scanning the barcode on the sub's label and pressing a few keys on his register. "As long as you don't let the bad days drag you down. You've got a good attitude, Phil... don't ever let that change. Need a bag?"

"Nah. Words of wisdom from the local cashier," Phil chuckled, tucking his wallet against his body with his arm so he could fish out a few dollar bills with his fingers.

Jeremy counted out the bills, pressing a few keys, before the register made its familar '_Kaching!_' and opened up the drawer for money.

"... And fifty-five cents is your change," Jeremy calculated, gently depositing the coins and receipt into Phil's hand. "Thank you and come visit Picnix again."

"I will," Phil agreed. "I'll tell the others you're working here, so maybe they can drop by sometime."

"Yeah, maybe. Tell them I said 'hi', okay?" Jeremy asked. "See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

Phil left Picnix in almost the exact opposite way he had come in. His head high, to see where he was going. His radio on, Cyndi Lauper accompanying him on his drive back. And once he finished that excellent sub and returned from break, he was delighted to find the place hadn't seen too many customers despite it being a Friday, so everything was relatively clean.

Best of all, Ronaldo appeared to have been waiting for him, holding onto a sheet of paper with a smile.

"Here!" Ronaldo said, handing the paper to him. "Heather went home. She said to give this to you. She got it before they threw the party trash away."

The opposite sides of the basic paper placemats actually served as a coloring sheet, where children could draw a picture depicting their big day at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

As drawn by "austin carmichael", a big brown box rested on top of some wavy blue lines - a boat upon the high seas. And standing upon the brown box were four stick figures in different colors - a motley crew. A small one in red, holding up a treasure map with a red 'x'. A taller pink one... with fox ears. Another fox of the same height, drawn with green crayon with a black hat. And finally, another stick figure drawn in yellow, with a purple hook on the end of his right arm, as tall as the foxes.

The last few hours of Phil's shift passed quickly, telling his friends about Jeremy before heading home. Only a few minutes after walking in and changing into comfortable clothes, he was surprised by the ringing from his kitchen phone.

"Hello, hello?"

"_Hello, hello!_" greeted the voice on the other end. "_So, Mr. Assistant Manager, how was your first Friday?_"

"Definitely not the greatest party I've ever hosted, Dad," Phil laughed, leaning against the wall.

"_Oh... I'm sorry._"

"Nah, it's all right," Phil looked over at his refrigerator, a familiar drawing pinned to it with a magnet. "You've gotta dig through the dirt to find the gold, after all."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**I want to apologize for taking a little longer to upload this chapter. I recently dealt with a stressful week of work, which not only took up a lot of time (imagine working for nearly ten hours... then doing it again the next day), it really killed my motivation.**

**I've also been putting in some more effort in improving my drawing skills, so I might be posting pics of Jeremy, Phil, and the other major characters soon.**

**Also, how about that new teaser image? Remember, this was written prior to FNAF 3, so canon events may not match.**


	5. Flicker

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon. Also features my OCs and some character and plot interpretations that may not be canon based on future games.**_

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 5: Flicker**

_August 16, 1987_

"... And six twenty-six is your change - five, one, twenty-five, one," Jeremy stated, counting out the bills and coins and placing them into Heather's hand.

"Thanks, Jer. So, how are things working out so far?" she asked, tucking the money into her pocket.

"Well, I already got my first paycheck. Based on the numbers, I'm probably gonna have to pull a little money out of my savings account to pay off my rent when September comes," Jeremy shrugged. "It isn't excessive, but I still feel bad about the fact that that's money I'm supposed to be _saving._ Next month, though, I'll have four paychecks, and that should pull me through just fine."

"Good, good," Heather agreed with a nod. "We gotta figure out some way to get everyone together for something. Preferably for free or at least cheap."

"That's going to be harder when classes start for the others again," Jeremy pointed out.

"Yeah, well..." Heather tilted her head left and right, as though trying to balance out the thoughts in her mind. "We'll figure something out. Thursdays might be our best bet."

"Thursdays?"

"Yeah, Phil has Thursdays off, and Sophia and Ronaldo have classes near the middle of the day, so it's fifty-fifty on whether they get the evening off. And I'm usually called in for security duty in the early half of the day, so..." she flicked the metal badge on her purple uniform. "You never know. Maybe something will happen and we can meet on a not-Thursday. Even if it's something dumb, like renting movies and eating take-out at someone's apartment. It'd still be fun, you know? Or maybe the student union at the university will host some kind of event, since those tend to be free."

"That could be fun," Jeremy agreed with a smile, his eyes glancing over to the right as an elderly lady stepped into line. "All right, Heather, I gotta let you go. Thank you for shopping at Picnix, and come see us again."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

The hours flew by, and Jeremy found himself finishing his shift close to seven thirty that night, ringing up a large tin of coffee beans for a man in his forties or fifties, something about him oddly familiar - he had seen him before, but where?

"Hello, hello!"

Now _that _was a voice and face he recognized.

"Why, hello there, Phillip!" the man in line had greeted him before Jeremy could even open his mouth.

"Hello, John! And Jeremy, hey!" Phil also had a tin of coffee among the groceries in his basket, as well as another one of the deli's subs. "Jeremy, this is John B- uh, John, he works at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza as well. He's our night security."

"Well, nice to meet you!" John declared pleasantly, extending a hand to shake. Customers were usually nice and said hello, but never as openly as this. Jeremy was left slightly dumbfounded, but he shook hands with him. "Just call me... John."

"And I'm Jeremy... Fitzgerald," Jeremy stated, noticing the way John left off his last name like Phil had at his introduction nearly two weeks ago. Speaking of which, even Phil seemed to be left uneasy by the introduction, eyeing John with his lips drawn tight. He looked back at Jeremy, who quickly glanced away. "So... I take it you're stocking up for the night shift?"

"Sure am," John confirmed, as Jeremy scanned the tin and rang it up on the register. "I'm a sucker for the flavored, fancier brand, what can I say?"

"Well, yeah," Phil let out a breathy laugh of bewilderment. "... but to think you'd also buy in bulk... I was buying this for the employee lounge..."

"Well, you know what they say about buying in bulk," John shrugged it off, pointing a finger at Jeremy in a pistol-like gesture. "More 'bang' for your buck, right?"

"Uh, right," Jeremy agreed. "Your total comes out to four dollars and two cents." **(1)**

John fished a five dollar bill and a nickel out of his wallet, and Jeremy gave him the proper change and the usual Picnix farewell. As Phil removed the items from his grocery basket, Jeremy hit a switch beside the register, and the lit-up number faded out.

"I'm clocking out. You're my last customer for the night," Jeremy explained.

"Oh, lucky me," Phil remarked with a little smile.

"Stocking up on the coffee too?" he asked, ringing up the tin.

"Well, it's not for me... I'm buying it for the employee lounge. John and Heather weren't the only ones requesting coffee, so my uncle caved in and bought that coffee pot. He told people to bring their own coffee, but..." Phil watched as Jeremy rang up the package of non-dairy creamers. "I figure having everyone try to bring in all this stuff would be too much of a hassle."

"So Frank just bought the coffee pot?" Jeremy asked, a mix of amusement and scorn in his voice. "Didn't even bother with the filters or anything?"

"His argument was that 'he only agreed to the pot', and nothing else," Phil shook his head. "My uncle is... crafty. No... perhaps 'sharp' would be a better word. Because he's pretty smart... but he tends to hurt people."

"Unlike you and your father. You are..." he paused, scanning a box of sugar packets. "... nice."

Phil let out a tiny laugh, and Jeremy smiled, finishing ringing up the groceries.

"Your total is twelve seventy-one," he stated, as Phil took out his wallet. He handed over a ten and a five, and Jeremy was already sorting through the bills before pressing any buttons on the register.

"... So you're good at math, too?" Phil asked, as Jeremy hit the keys. He smiled at the number that came up on the register.

"It kind of comes hand-in-hand with science. The register is supposed to be used to calculate the change, but... I only use it to check my answers. Two twenty-nine is your change... One, two, twenty-five, and four," Jeremy placed the bills and coins into Phil's hand. "Thank you for shopping at Picnix, and come see us again. Although... I'm taking my leave now too."

He walked Phil to the door - granted, it was only a five-step trek - and they exchanged their usual farewells.

"See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

Phil had only walked a short distance out of the grocery store and into the parking lot, back out into the warm air of another summer evening, the sun not quite down yet and painting everything in the sky. By next week, he would be working the later shifts in order to accommodate the classes he took in the morning, and he probably wouldn't witness the sun set as often. Gazing out into the blues and purples ahead, it left him with a sense of melancholy. Not really sure why, he leaned his head back and turned on his heel, his eyes following the gradient of colors, through lavender, through pink, to radiant orange still leaking out from behind the Picnix. Jeremy had just stepped out of the store, now walking to a different area of the parking lot. His gaze shifted to the right, and his eyes fell on Phil.

Not wanting to linger, Phil quickly turned away, heading back to his Mercury Sable.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 17, 1987_

"_Oh, my... I'm feeling under the weather... what about you, Foxanne?"_ the Southern accent that usually came from Loxy's voice box warped, deepening the pitch of her voice. A staticky gurgling noise came from the voice box, possibly Foxanne trying to add commentary to the state of the animatronic, in a desperate attempt to offer additional diagnostics.

"I know, Loxy, I know..." Heather spoke soothingly to the animatronic, almost as if it was a child laying in her lap rather than a large robotic fox. Loxy herself wasn't too heavily damaged... save for a large dent in her white chest piece, and the voice box would definitely need to be replaced. On the other hand, the doll-like body that was supposed to be Foxanne had clearly been mistaken for a doll, and she had been almost completely ripped off by two bratty little girls, with a plush arm ripped off and lying by the cubbies where the shoes were kept, stuffing and pieces of her furry coat and dress strewn around the floor of Kids' Cove.

"Ronaldo's in-costume, distracting the kids, and Anita's keeping an eye on him and the clock," Phil explained, stepping into the room. "How's, uh, Loxy?"

"Loxy's probably going to have to be taken out of commission for a week or so," Heather remarked, tapping the tip of her screwdriver against her cheek. "You'll need to order another voicebox, and Foxanne needs a completely new body and head."

With only an endoskeleton head - skull? - left attached to Loxy's arm, Foxanne certainly looked different from the doll she had been before. Phil picked up a little piece of stuffing off the floor, rolling it between his fingers and thumb with a frown.

"Hey, will you run to the kitchen and get my daily rations?" Heather asked with a wry smile. "I'll see if I can get this dent out of Loxy while I'm on my break."

"Oh, uh, I suppose... but..." Phil shrugged. "... I was thinking about taking my break early... and I could go get you something for lunch, if you've got money."

Her mouth twisted into a confused frown.

"... But the food here is _free_," she argued.

"Well, y-yeah, but," Phil scoffed. "Come _on_, you have to be getting tired of the pizza you dislike so much."

"I dunno, I mean, it's still not great, but when Ronaldo or Bruce cook it, it tastes more tolerable. Plus, it's... free," Heather restated her point.

"I suppose..." he shrugged. "Well, I'm still going out. I'll bring you some pizza and then I'm going out to eat."

"What are you getting?" she inquired.

"Oh, uh..." he tucked his hand and opposite arm into his pockets, rocking on his heels. "... just... you know... fast food. Burgers. Yeah, burgers. I-I haven't had a good burger in a while, mmm!"

He turned and bolted out of Kids' Cove before Heather could say another word.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Roast beef. That would be a good sandwich to try today. He'd already had a ham and cheese melt, and he'd sampled a turkey sub here, so why not a roast beef sandwich? Shelby was in once again, and the sandwich she prepared looked as delicious as the others. Phil really wished the store didn't have a policy against tipping.

Since the sandwich was the only thing he came for, all that was left to do was check out. The ten-items-or-less line was pretty packed. One register had two people in line... that one had a coupon-clipper with several bulk packages of product... that one had a little old lady with only a few groceries, but sometimes the elderly took up extra time to write out checks or didn't understand how to use a credit card, so that register was out...

The next register had two people in line, one buying lunch as well and one with a fair number of groceries, but it would be fine. Coincidentally, Jeremy was the cashier at this register today. It took a little while to move through the line, but Phil finally got to check out.

"Hello, hello!"

"Hello, hello," Jeremy repeated back, scanning the barcode on the sticker used to seal the sandwich bag. "You really like these subs, don't you?"

"What can I say? Shelby's really good. Have you tried any of the Picnix subs yet? Because if she's the one cooking, you're in for a treat," Phil commented.

"I'm afraid not..." Jeremy apologized. "I usually grab one of the microwavable lunches that cost a little under a dollar. I can't afford to eat subs every day."

Phil didn't say anything, looking down. That turned... incredibly awkward in just a few seconds. Did Jeremy feel like he was being mocked, since he came in here so frequently to buy lunch despite the fact that he had free food offered to him every day?

"You okay?" Jeremy asked.

"Hmm? Oh, y-yeah, I was just thinking... about classes. They start next week, and I'll probably be buying textbooks on Thursday. That's one paycheck down the drain. Huh... maybe... I should cut back on going out to eat," Phil lied, as Jeremy rang up his sandwich for $3.39.

He had almost perfect change today, with three ones and two quarters. Just like the day before, Jeremy fished out a dime and penny from the register, before hitting the keys to calculate the price. Eleven cents indeed.

"I still can't get over how good at math you are," Phil commented.

"Calculating an eleven cent difference isn't exactly difficult," Jeremy shrugged, although he couldn't hide the smile on his face. "... but thank you."

"Listen, um..." Phil shifted from one foot to the other. "My uncle gets every Wednesday off, so... if you wanted to come by Freddy Fazbear's Pizza to visit on your break, you're more than welcome to."

"It would be pretty nice to see everyone together again," Jeremy admitted. "All right. Thank you and come visit Picnix again. See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 19, 1987_

It had been just short of two weeks since he had last come here, Jeremy noted, as he pulled into the parking lot outside Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. In all honesty, it didn't seem as different compared to when he had first arrived for orientation - the parking lot was devoid of cars save for the ones belonging to employees then, and it was still relatively empty now, considering it was the middle of a school day.

By the time he had walked up to the door, the memories started coming back. _Fitzgerald... I'd like a word with you. Keep an eye on the door, Phillip._ Phil had just smiled weakly, probably thinking it was because he was late... when in actuality things had been far, far worse.

Jeremy's eyes wandered down to his hand, frozen in front of him. While they had faded away for the most part, some of the bruises on his knuckles from his breakdown still remained. A knot formed in his stomach, wondering if maybe coming here was a bad idea...

He jumped back half a step when the door opened in front of him, and Phil stepped out, his smile as bright as the goldenrod polo he wore.

"Jeremy! I'm glad you could come!" he greeted, holding open the door. "... Well, come on in!"

There was another girl in the usual orange polo standing by the small podium where people were greeted - who looked over at her assistant manager in confusion.

"I was going to let him in, sir, you didn't have to -"

"Nah, Janet, it's fine," Phil waved it off and beamed up at Jeremy. "He's with me, right?"

"R-right," Jeremy agreed, following Phil inside, back to the game area.

So the place wasn't completely empty... there were two boys over in the corner by an arcade game, most likely brothers, as the taller one seemed content to wiggle the joystick and mash the buttons while the smaller one held onto his shirt with one hand, the other hand holding some kind of goody bag, as he stared at the large box decorated like a wrapped present in the Prize Corner. One girl was playing skeeball, and another one seemed content to sit at one of the tables and color. Bonnie and Freddy silently watched everything from the stage, their eyes -

"Hold on," Jeremy remarked, gently tapping Phil's shoulder. "Chick, or whatever her name was... she's missing from the stage!"

Phil shrugged it off.

"Chica? She probably walked off the stage again... Heather's probably - " he froze suddenly, his eyes widening.

"What's wrong?"

"Heather's n-not in today, the other guard is..." Phil whispered, his hand clasping the side of his face. "Did NOBODY realize one of our animatronics is missing?!"

"Phil?"

He was now pacing in a little circle, mumbling his worries to himself.

"... Uncle will be furious... what if it's stolen?... still have to file a police report... show up on the news again... don't want to stress Dad out..."

"Phil, hey, listen," Jeremy stepped in front of him, stopping Phil in his tracks, and comfortingly placed his hands on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath, okay? We're trying to find a robotic bird, not a lost child or an engagement ring. It can't be too hard to track down, right?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them again.

"... Yeah, you're right," he agreed, his eyes meetng Jeremy's.

Up close like this, he noticed just how rich the shade of brown in Jeremy's eyes were. Like... chocolate brown.

_Okay, no. _Phil mentally scolded himself. _I'm not supposed to be getting lost in the eyes of a friend. Especially a guy friend._

Jeremy blinked a few times, a small frown of confusion on his face, before his eyes darted upward. He turned his head, surveying the ceiling, until he froze upon spotting a camera.

"What if we check the video footage on the security tapes?" Jeremy asked, still looking up at the camera.

"... That's a good idea," Phil agreed, slapping his hand to his forehead. "I'm so dumb. I should've thought of that sooner."

"You're not dumb. You just have a stressful job that makes you worry a lot. Usually for good reason," Jeremy turned back to Phil, offering him a smile. "But just remember to stay positive, you know?"

"Okay. You're right. I'm going to believe we can find Chica."

"That's a step in the right direction," Jeremy agreed.

"A step... a STEP!" Phil grinned brightly, his hand wrapping around Jeremy's wrist as he turned and tugged him along toward the stage. "Jeremy, you're a genius!"

"I, uh..." It was a good thing Phil was turned around, or he would've noticed the blush threatening to consume his cheeks.

He let go of Jeremy's wrist, now wandering around the area surrounding the stage.

"Let's see... There should be something..." Phil mumbled to himself, getting down on his knees to check under a nearby table. "... around... here!"

He crawled under the table for a moment, before crawling back out, turning around to present his treasure to Jeremy.

"It's something... metal," Jeremy observed, peering through his glasses at the pink object with tiny black extensions in Phil's hand.

"It's an _eyelid_," Phil clarified. "You were right, I got so worked up that I forgot about how the animatronics have a free-roaming mode."

"Free-roaming? Like they can wander around as they please?" Jeremy asked.

Phil nodded and continued.

"Chica's been way more active than Bonnie and Freddy, but she has some kind of bug. The other two walk down the steps from the stage fine, but Chica always walks straight off," Phil let out a sigh. "I _really_ think Chica should be kept out of commission until she's repaired, but my uncle thinks taking her down for a day would be too 'noticeable'. And yet, he's fine with Loxy being removed from Kids Cove until her parts are brought in. Oh, there's another piece."

Phil wandered over to the steps of the stage, where a fake eyeball was found.

"So, talk to him about it," Jeremy insisted, trying to help out by peeking under a nearby table.

"What? N-no, I can't - " he went quiet for a moment, looking back at Jeremy. "... I-I guess I won't know until I try."

Jeremy smiled and nodded, moving to check underneath another table. Sure enough, he found a metal beak, with a set of intact pearly white teeth.

"I found the... uh, mouth!"

_Beaks were NOT meant to have actual teeth_, Jeremy thought to himself - half of the sentiment coming from the part of him that found the visual image eerie, the other half coming from the part of him that was a studious biology major. **(2)**

"Oh, hey, good job!" Phil popped up from behind a different table, now with a second eyelid and eyeball.

"So, if we place all the parts in a circle with candles, will we summon the actual body?" Jeremy asked with a playful grin, as he walked over to hand the beak to Phil, who laughed.

"No, but it likely means that Chica is somewhere in the building. Checking the monitors in the security office would probably be a good idea. C'mon, you remember the way?" Phil explained, nodding over his shoulder.

Jeremy followed him out into the main hallway, turning down the part that went past the four private party rooms, until they stepped into the security office at the end of the hall. A note was left on the desk - _went to restroom, be back shortly_.

"I can't help but feel like security should be more... secure," Jeremy remarked, picking up the note.

Phil laid the parts on the desk, before turning to the monitor behind it, which currently showed the children playing in the game area, a green '10' in the corner, indicating the channel. On the small area of the table space left in front of the monitor was a laminated map, with numbers written in boxes to indicate the rooms with cameras, as well as a remote.

Phil studied the map for a moment, before picking up the remote and pressing one of the arrows to try jumping channels. The screen flashed, before switching over to a view of what was most certainly the Prize Corner, based the plush dolls lining the shelves and the chiming notes of the music box that could be heard through the audio feed. The number in the corner of the screen had changed to an '11' as well.

"Okay, so... based on the map and what we know, Chica's probably not in the playing areas or the main hallway... so we can rule out cameras nine through eleven, as well as seven..." Phil mused.

Jeremy looked over his shoulder at the map, frowning, and glanced at the sides of the office.

"There's no cameras in here... where's Cam Five and Cam Six?" he asked.

Phil tapped the 'channel down' button repeatedly, the screen going blank save for the number in the corner descending in value, until he came to a screen showing an empty metal corridor, the number '6' in the corner of this screen.

"Ohhh," Phil realized, turning around to look near the bottom of the right wall. "I think the camera must be inside the vent."

"Why would they need cameras in the vents?" Jeremy asked.

"Maybe there were other locations with kids trying to climb into the vents? I don't know," Phil admitted.

He pressed the 'channel up' button to examine the Parts & Service room, when he heard the sound of clanging metal coming through the audio feed, and he exchanged a look with Jeremy.

"Chica!" they both exclaimed, now darting toward the Parts and Services room.

Phil swung the door open, flinching as the familiar stench greeted him, and flipped on the light.

Sure enough, Chica was in the corner of the room, although only her back was visible to the guys.

"What is she...?" Phil asked, interrupted when Chica suddenly moved, the sounds of metal parts clicking and fastening making him jump.

"It looks like she's holding something," Jeremy pointed out.

They exchanged a curious look, stepping over the old Freddy Fazbear animatronic that had collapsed in the center of the room. Sure enough, Chica was actually hunched over a white animatronic.

"Loxy!" Phil gasped.

Chica turned around at the noise, giving them a full view of the scene. She had been inserting an endoskeleton into the 'costume' used for Loxy.

"She must've wandered in here and started following programming," Phil concluded.

"Her programming?"

"Well, the animatronics have another neat feature to their AI," Phil commented, looking down at Chica, as she put Loxy's head over the part of the endoskeleton that was comparable to a skull. "They can put together animatronics at the most basic level... that is, putting an endoskeleton inside the character's costume. They aren't advanced enough for the minute details, which is why Bonnie and Freddy haven't tried to reassemble Chica's face each time she falls off the stage."

"Who even programs this stuff?"

"I dunno, but we picked a good company!" Phil grinned. "Well... aside from the glitches that still have to be sorted out. Uh, but for the most part, their programming skills are impressive."

"Yeah."

"_It's just a boo-boo, I'll be fine!_" Chica's voice chirped from her voicebox.

"And that's the diagnostic part of their AI. It keeps them in-character while letting the mechanics know what's wrong. I think Heather said that's just the code for a minor mechanical error, since it's just pieces of her face that fell off. Since she's out for the day, we'll probably have to call someone in, though..." Phil's face fell for a moment, but he snapped his fingers and perked back up. "All right, here's what we'll do! I'll call in the other mechanic, and then _we_'ll go have some pizza, okay?"

"All right, but..." Jeremy frowned, looking over at Chica. "What are we supposed to do about her until the mechanic gets here?"

"I'll have someone watch her until the mechanic arrives. I think George can handle keeping an eye on her," Phil stated, leaving the room with Jeremy.

Sure enough, they found George in the gameroom, trying to stand nonchalantly by one of the arcade machines as though he hadn't been playing. Phil explained the situation and he reluctantly left.

As they stepped into the back area, Jeremy and Phil were greeted by Sophia's voice, speaking excitedly to someone - and then they realized whom.

"Oh, yes, I'd love to... I mean, _me gustaria salir contigo!_"

Sure enough, around the corner, she was beaming up at Ronaldo outside the kitchen, his cheeks rosy as he awkwardly fiddled with his hands.

"Oh... I understood you in English," he mumbled shyly, but smiled, his voice a little stronger. "But I am happy you said yes."

Ronaldo turned his head at that moment, and did a double take upon spotting his other friends in the room.

"... Phil...? ... Jeremy!"

"Jeremy?! Oh my gosh!" Sophia squeaked. She ran up to him, arms outstretched, and he accepted her hug. "It's been so long, how are you doing?"

"It hasn't been _that_ long, Sophia," he laughed softly, patting her back. "But I'm good, how about you?"

"Good, good!" Sophia let go of Jeremy, glancing back at Ronaldo with a smile at the second 'good'. "So, did you come by to chat?"

"Pardon me, uh, you guys go ahead," Phil interrupted, taking a few steps back. "I have a phone call to make."

"Mechanic. Chica fell and broke a few small parts," Jeremy explained, as Phil exited the room. "Or, uh..."

He looked over at Ronaldo, holding out a hand, as though he wanted to see the familiar dictionary once again.

"Mechanic, _mecánico_. It's okay, Jeremy, I understood. I am still studying a lot," Ronaldo explained.

"Oh, that's great, man!" Jeremy praised.

"Speaking of which, I'm sorry Heather wasn't here to see you," Sophia apologized with a sad smile.

"You've got nothing to apologize for. Everybody has to take a day off at some point. I happened to have the day off as well, so I came by to spend it with you guys," Jeremy offered.

"Have you had lunch?" Ronaldo asked. Jeremy shook his head.

"No, but I was planning on eating here," he answered. "I hear you've improved the pizza recipe."

Ronaldo put a finger up to his lips.

"It is a secret," he reminded him. "I put more garlic and butter on cheese and crust."

"It's okay. I'll keep it a secret," Jeremy assured with a nod. "What about what you guys said in Spanish? Is that a secret too?"

Sophia exchanged another look with Ronaldo, a tiny playful smile on her lips.

"Maaaaybeee...!" she giggled.

Jeremy just smiled. Some things didn't need translating. The three of them heard footsteps come down the hall, and Phil re-entered the room.

"Okay, someone's on the way. How about that pizza?"

The four of them spent lunch in the employee lounge, discussing classes and plans for the week and next.

"Phil has Thursdays off, so that's probably our best starting point for figuring out when to schedule our next get-together," Jeremy stated, gently pushing his paper plate aside. "Preferably for the five of us."

"Oh, Jeremy, it's alright," Phil assured. "If there's a day where I can't come but the four of you _can_ get together, please, don't feel bad about leaving me out! I mean, we have a whole semester ahead of us! There's bound to be several get-togethers, and there's bound to be a few where one or two of us can't attend."

"Heather herself even argued in favor of Thursdays," Jeremy pointed out. "She told me about Sophia and Ronaldo's classes, and about how she usually works the morning half of security."

"All right," Phil agreed. "So, what would we do on a Thursday night? We can't go out to eat all the time."

"Getting together at someone's apartment might be fun!" Sophia suggested. "Well... I live in a campus-run apartment, so my place is pretty much like a dorm room... and small."

"I live in a dorm too," Ronaldo added, disappointed.

"Pat doesn't mind guests as long as they're not too loud, so my apartment might work as well," Jeremy added. "I don't know about Heather's situation, though."

"She probably has an apartment and a roommate or two as well," Phil theorized. "But if there's any concern about roommates, uh... I do live in a single-person apartment."

His three friends gave him an impressed look.

"Like I said... I-I did earn a few raises over the years, so I've had time to save up some money... but being an assistant manager full-time pays much better than any part-time position I've ever had."

"Are you going to be able to balance that with classes, though?" Sophia asked, concerned.

"... I'm sure I'll find a way," Phil stated, giving a thumbs up.

Jeremy's eyes wandered over to the clock on the wall, and Phil followed his gaze.

"Oh, shoot... our break's over," Phil complained, but he smiled. "I'm glad you came to visit, Jeremy."

"I'm glad I came, I had a good time," Jeremy confirmed, standing up to throw away his trash. "So I guess we'll try to figure out a Thursday where we can get together at one of our apartments and order a... no, you guys have to eat that so often..."

He looked down at the paper plate in his hand with an awkward frown.

"... Chinese take-out! We'll get take-out!" Sophia suggested eagerly.

"Take-out it is!" Phil agreed with a grin.

After Jeremy had thrown out his trash, Phil walked him out. Or, at least they were about to, had someone familiar not walked into the main hallway of the pizzeria.

"HOLY...!" Heather started to exclaim in excitement, before glancing beyond them into the game area. "... cow."

"Oh, the gang's all here!" Jeremy remarked with a small laugh. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to visit, probably the same as you. Except... I've got big news!" she grinned from ear-to-ear. "Any chance you know what your schedule will be like next week, Jeremy? Like what days you have off?"

"Umm..." he looked upward, trying to recall. "I only have Wednesday off, but I'm working shorter hours on Tuesday and Thursday to compensate."

"Do you have some kind of arrangement planned for us?" Phil asked. "Because we won't know our schedules until tomorrow, and..."

"It's cool, I'm just comparing our schedules to Fritz's. You remember my friend Fritz I mentioned?" Heather asked. "Over the summer, he joined one of those 'amateur theater groups'. You know, to find something to pass the time. And anyway, he landed a part in a production and offered me some vouchers for free tickets. He could only give me two, though, so we'll have to chip in to get the other three. But this _is _an amateur production being shown at the theater of the community college, so it shouldn't be too expensive."

"A theater production?" Phil asked, his voice rising in pitch as questions started to fly from his mouth. "What are they performing? Is it something classic, like Shakespeare? Or something modern? Is it a musical?"

"Uh... kind of a mix of both, actually. It's an opera," Heather explained. "Fritz is going to be a part of a production of _Carmen._"

"_Carmen_?!" Phil gasped. "I-I haven't seen it myself, but this will certainly be something to tell my father about... wow!"

"Your father?" Jeremy asked.

Phil nodded.

"The first Friday night after my father and Frederick Derbassier made their business deal to form Fazbear Entertainment, Mr. Derbassier invited my parents out to go see _Carmen_. And I, being about eleven years old, was deemed too young to appreciate opera and thus stayed home with a babysitter. Mom thought it was alright, but Dad _loved_ it," One could practically see stars glimmering in his eyes. "And now I'm going to finally see it."

Jeremy let out a sigh.

"I'm gonna have to buy a suit, though..." he commented, tugging at the sleeve on his t-shirt.

"No way, man," Heather waved it off. "Fritz says it's supposed to be a pretty casual affair. Just wear something 'nice', maybe throw on a necktie, and you should be good."

"... All right. I think I've got something that would work," Jeremy mused.

"Cool. We'll see what everyone's schedules are like, and then I'll order the tickets," Phil offered. "I mean, since I'm currently in classes, maybe I can also get a student discount?"

"Worth a shot," Heather encouraged. "All right, well I just stopped by to say hello and share the news, I'm gonna go do some shopping."

"I'm heading home, so I'll see you later as well," Jeremy added.

"You still have your sheet with everyone's number, right?" Heather asked, looking over at Phil.

"Oh, uh, yes!" he nodded quickly. "I'll call you and let you know when I'm available... though I'd wager it would be Monday or Thursday because of classes and whatnot."

"Okay, I'll see you guys later," Heather gave one more quick wave before turning on her heel and dashing out the door.

In contrast, Jeremy walked to the door and calmly let himself out.

"Thanks again for today. See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

_Carmen_... _Carmen_... Phil thought to himself. It was a famous opera, and he was sure he had heard at least one of the songs before...

But where?

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_Augusr 25, 1987_

Class was officially underway again, and while Tuesday mornings would have normally meant biology lab, there was no class scheduled for the very first week.

Which, of course, gave Phil ample time to study up on all the notes he had taken his first day. Four classes in one day didn't sound too hard on the surface, but when one of them was a double-period class and the other one lasted for three periods, it was easy to see how one could feel overwhelmed.

_But it's not going to get to me_, Phil reminded himself with a little smile, as he once again pulled into the Picnix parking lot. Perhaps he would try the Italian sub for lunch today? He had Italian blood in his veins, it was like a duty to determine if the sub was worthy of its name. Shelby wasn't in today, so a guy named Nick made the sub for his lunch.

Now the half-Italian with a whole Italian sub (and a can of cola) made his way to the registers, unable to resist the urge to find the one where Jeremy was working at, just to give him the usual 'hello-hellos' and also let him know how classes were going.

However... today he could not find Jeremy at any of the registers. Of course, he didn't know Jeremy's schedule, so he might have been scheduled for later in the day, so he might just have to swing by later. He checked out, mildly disappointed...

"Phil?! Hey, Phil!" Jeremy's voice called out to him.

He turned his head to the left. Sure enough, Jeremy was waving him over, seated alone at a picnic table underneath a towering maple tree, one of those instant soup bowls in front of him. Phil smiled, jogging up to the table.

"Did I catch you on _your_ lunch break?" he inquired, standing at Jeremy's side.

"Yeah, but I didn't catch you on yours," he replied, looking Phil up and down. A black tee shirt bearing the words "Pirate Cove" scrawled out in red with a minimalist design of Foxy, and denim jeans... he didn't see him in casual attire that often anymore. It didn't surprise Jeremy too much that he owned clothing related to the Fazbear franchise, either. **(3) **

"I've got about thirty minutes left on my break... you wanna stay and chat?" Jeremy offered.

He scooted a little further down on the picnic bench, opening a spot for Phil. He took a step forward, delighted, but stopped in his tracks.

"I just thought of something. Give me one second, I'll be right back," Phil excused himself, dashing into the parking lot.

"Watch out for cars!" Jeremy yelled after him.

Phil didn't turn back or reply, save for raising a hand to let him know he had heard him. He stopped at his Mercury Sable, catching his breath as he unlocked and opened the door. Phil reached into the bookbag he kept in the backseat of the car. He removed the blue spiral notebook from the bag, and reached for the biology textbook among the textbooks on the floor of the backseat. Oh, right, he should probably take a few pencils, too. His original plan was to stop by the library to review each of his subjects... even if only one day of class had passed. But suddenly, this was feeling like a much more appealing idea.

Now with one pencil tucked behind his ear and the others gripped in his hand, his arms cradling his books and sub, he hurried back to where Jeremy was seated.

"Hey, so, I had my first biology lecture yesterday..." Phil started to say.

"... and you want me to help you go over your notes?" Jeremy finished.

He merely nodded in reply. Jeremy patted the empty spot beside him, and Phil took a seat. The first section of the chapter was barely covered in the lecture, as it was just reviewing the scientific method. The second section started to cover actual biology, by presenting the concepts that defined life.

"Hmm... what defines life..." Phil mused aloud, gently closing the book on his finger to mark his place so he couldn't peek at the answers. "Well... I think all living creatures are made up of cells... even if they're only a single cell, like bacteria."

"That's one thing," Jeremy confirmed.

"Wait, do you know all of the criteria?"

A small but proud smile formed on his face.

"I have a general idea. Keep going, how many do you remember from yesterday?"

"Okay... uh... all living things require some form of energy, like photosynthesis or actually eating things..." Phil recalled, looking over at Jeremy, who nodded. "Okay... uh... _uhh_... oh, come on..."

"I'm talking to you, giving you hints, because you are stuck... so I am '_blank'_ to your needs," Jeremy hinted, pinching his own hand and faking a look of pain.

"Oh, uh, responding! Living things respond to stuff, like pain or light... oh, and this also helps them regulate their body. Well, plants and mushrooms don't really have bodies. Or... um... what am I trying to say...?"

"Regulation, that's one of the requirements. Keep going."

Phil remained quiet, chewing on his lip, looking at Jeremy in desperation.

"Okay... think about all the different kingdoms of life. You know what those are, right? Try and think about what they have in common."

"Hmm... animals... plants... fungi... protists... bacteria and viruses - "

"Nope!"

"N-no?" Phil asked.

"Viruses are _not_ considered living creatures. And this is because of another reason you haven't named yet," Jeremy lectured.

"Do viruses have cells? No, I already said that, and they have DNA..." Phil's voice trailed off as Jeremy nodded suddenly.

"DNA. That's the right track, you're so close."

"Uh, something to do with reproduction?"

"Right!" Jeremy cheered. "Whether sexually or asexually, all living organisms are capable of reproduction. However, viruses rely on host cells to reproduce, so since they can't do it on their own, they can't be considered living creatures."

"Hmm..." Phil looked up at the looming maple tree. "... All living things have to grow, then, right?"

"That's right, good job," Jeremy said with a nod. "I think there's only one that you're missing."

Phil shook his head.

"I don't have the slightest idea, just tell me, please."

"Homeostasis," Jeremy stated. "The organism's cells require appropriate conditions, such as temperature, and the organism has to be able to maintain these conditions despite the environment it's in."

"It sounds a lot like regulation, but okay," Phil resigned. "So... cells, reproduction, growth, energy processing, homeostasis, regulation, and... responsiveness."

"Right."

"Moving on, then," Phil said, opening his textbook on the page he had been on, before letting out a little groan. "Evolution."

"Evolution?" Jeremy inquired, perking up. "I love evolution!"

"Oh, maybe you can explain it better to me, then," Phil sighed, opening his notebook. He took a pencil and sketched out a single arrow. "Like... how come we still have chimpanzees if we evolved from them?"

"Because people word things incorrectly," Jeremy stated, beckoning for Phil to hand him a pencil. "We didn't evolve _from_ them... we shared a common ancestor."

He tapped the eraser end of the pencil to his cheek a few times, turning to the next page in the book. A branching diagram of bacteria and eukaryotes was presented on the page, and Jeremy pointed to it.

"Just like when you think about family trees on the smaller level, like how your grandparents had your father, Frank, and Flora, and then your dad married your mom and you and your cousins were born... you kind of have to think of evolution like a branching tree," Jeremy lectured.

"... Except I don't have any cousins, but okay."

"... Oh. Well, the point still stands, you have to think about it like a branching tree. Organisms reproduce, and genetic mutations occur. Maybe there's a family of gray..." Jeremy paused, looking at Phil's shirt. "... foxes that live in a forest environment."

Phil couldn't hide his childish smile, and Jeremy smiled as well.

"But then, a variable changes in the environment and throws everything out of balance. In this case, it's... uh... a second coming of the Ice Age. In other words, there's snow everywhere."

He sketched out four circles and added little triangular ears to them, writing 'G' in two of them, 'R' in one, and 'W' in the last one.

"Now, in one family, some mutations occur, causing one kit to be born with bright red fur, one kit to be born with white fur, and the other kits are born with the usual gray. The red one stands out too much, so it has trouble sneaking up on prey or it can't hide from larger predators like wolves, so it dies without the chance to reproduce," Jeremy remarked, now striking an 'x' over the fox with an 'R' written on it. "On the other hand, the white fox has the advantage of camoflage, so it can hide from predators and has an advantage while hunting. So it..."

He sketched out another fox with a 'G', and drew a line between the two of them, then a line stretching down perpendicular from the previous one. He then drew four more little foxes, but this time with two 'W's and two 'G's. Phil was content to watch Jeremy work, eating his sub as he looked on.

"... lives long enough to breed and pass on its genes to its offspring, giving some of them the same white coat that gave it an advantage to survive. Of course, the foxes may breed multiple times, so the number of offspring with white fur will vary, and sometimes the white ones will get unlucky with predators or just get sick and die, but eventually the white foxes will start to become the majority of the fox population in the area. But you pretty much see how natural selection works with genetic mutation according to Darwin's theory of evolution."

"Yeah... yeah, I think I get it!" Phil agreed, before taking another bite out of his sandwich.

"It's the same thing will all life forms, just stretched out over one or two billion years," he scooted a little closer to Phil to draw in the notebook again.

"Uh, all right," Phil agreed, trying to ignore the fact that his pulse had sped up slightly.

Jeremy drew a line and then drew an 'x' at the end of it.

"Sometimes life can't find a way, and extinction happens. It's surprisingly more common than you'd think, but it is a very dark ending."

"Like with the dinosaurs," Phil commented.

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed, now drawing a new line. This time, however, he branched it off in two directions. The left branch he kept short, labeling it "prokaryotes". The right branch, he made a little longer, labeling it "eukaryotes".

"But there are also times where life _does_ find a way, through mutations, and it goes on. This little spot," Jeremy stopped to circle the place where the two branches met. "Is the common ancestor of both single- and multi-cellular organisms. Then the multicellular organisms start to get more complex as life develops in the water, specifically the oceans... uh, for example..."

He went through more branches and labeled them as he went... Porifera... cnidarians... mollusks that branched off into gastropods like snails, and cephalopods like the ancient ammonite and the modern day nautilus.

"So they survived by being 'nautie', I guess you could say?" Phil joked.

Jeremy shook his head at the awful pun and continued. Phil admittedly zoned out as Jeremy continued drawing branches and labeling them... branches... he gazed back up at the maple tree. Its leaves were green now, but in a few months, they'd be changing to beautiful hues of vermillion and saffron.

"... So then we finally have cute and fluffy creatures like foxes and rabbits, and we also get primates... I am running out of room on this page," Jeremy mused to himself, having reached mammals.

"It's just the same thing, right? Like there's a branch for chimpanzees and a branch for humans?"

"Yeah," Jeremy confirmed, before checking his watch. "Oh, shoot... sorry, Phil, I gotta head back." **(4)**

"Uh, Jeremy, I just have one last question!" Phil quickly exclaimed, as Jeremy threw out his trash in the nearby can. "Um... why biology? And why do you like evolution so much?"

"Well... I would be lying if I didn't admit it just started as simply thinking 'it was cool'," Jeremy stated, sheepishly rubbing his neck. "All those varieties of animals, plants, and other life forms... some are cute, some are beautiful, and some inspire fear. Like spiders... I-I don't really like spiders or stinging insects all that much..."

He clutched at his arms, and Phil could've sworn he saw him tremble for a second. Jeremy shook his head and smiled.

"But evolution is not just a scientific theory. It is an inspiring story of overcoming the odds, told generation after generation, a language of life that transcends any form of communication. There are so many 'could-have-been' stories throughout evolutionary history... but we are the stories that 'are'. The same stardust that formed our universe billions of years ago is in you and me, and there will never be another Phil Fazari or Jeremy Fizgerald like us. Just our mere existence is the purest form of art, and that is why no painting or sculpture can ever truly capture the beauty of a flower or the human figure," Jeremy laughed, his face slightly red, as he looked off to the side. "I know it's overthinking things, and I'm weird, but I just find so much beauty in it."

"I don't think you're weird at all," Phil reassured him with a smile, gathering his school supplies in his arms. "When you put it that way, life just seems even more beautiful."

Jeremy's cheeks turned even redder, if that was somehow possible, and he smiled sheepishly down at his shoes.

"Oh, well... you're the only person to ever tell me I'm not weird for thinking that way... although... you're the only person I've ever confided in about that anyway."

He stood there silently for a moment or two, before turning to look back at the Picnix.

"Right, so... um... I'm gonna head back now," Jeremy stated. "See - "

"C-Call me," Phil requested, the words shooting out of his mouth before he could process what he was asking.

For such an intelligent young man, Jeremy continued to stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Call me," Phil restated, trying to collect his thoughts like a child snatching up Easter eggs. "I-I, uh, I want to do something like this again... where, uh, you help me with my notes... a-and we can get something to eat, too, only it'll be my treat. So... uh... I-I should definitely be home by 10:30 tonight. Um, maybe you should call _me_, a-and let me know what your schedule's like, so that way the... the phone ringing won't wake up Pat. You know, uh, just to be safe. Okay?"

Jeremy's brow furrowed, thinking it over for a moment.

"... Okay," he replied, smiling before he turned and left. "See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_August 27, 1987_

The sun was starting to descend in the west when Phil walked up to the small theater at the community college. Sure enough, everyone's plans had aligned, and tonight was the night they would all be watching _Carmen_.

Even if it was just a small production, the moment his uncle had heard about his plans, he insisted that Phil wear a suit to the event. So here he was, on a summer evening, in a black suit and pants, with his usual black necktie flimsily knotted over a white shirt underneath.

Heather was already waiting outside the theater, clad in a long-sleeved cerulean blouse made of satin and black slacks. Much to his surprise, however, she had also brought along a black mini purse.

"Yo, Phil!" she waved him over. "Hey, man, how's it going?"

"Um, it's alright..." he answered with a shrug, walking up to her. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not that long," she dismissed. "I came early to say hi to Fritz, plus I wanted to make sure everyone arrived like they were supposed to. Speaking of which, you got your ticket?"

"Yes," Phil confirmed, reaching into his pocket and removing the ticket for her to see. After classes on Wednesday, he had picked up the tickets for the Thursday evening showing, in order to get the student discount. He had then distributed the tickets among their group of friends at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, including Jeremy, who had driven by to pick his up.

"As do I," remarked another voice.

Clad in a navy blue button-down shirt with a black-and-gray-striped necktie with dark gray slacks, it was hard at first to recognize Jeremy with his hair slicked back. But he was holding the same ticket, and he still had the same glasses and voice and everything else that made him Jeremy.

"Hey, Jeremy! Good to see you again!" Heather greeted.

"Same to you. And you, Phil," he replied. "So, I guess we're just waiting on Sophia and Ronaldo?"

"Yeah. Buuut..." Heather grinned. "I'm willing to bet they arrive together."

Come to think of it, Phil had noticed they had been spending even more time together ever since he had seen them chatting the day that Jeremy first came to visit. But what the heck, it was natural for people his age to date. Even if he hadn't been on one since that girl he'd tried to wrap his arm around.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Sophia and Ronaldo arrived together, her arm linked with his, as he escorted her to their circle of friends. They had even come with a matching color scheme. Sophia wore a sleeveless red dress with a rather deep neckline that seemed tighter up top but more flowy where her dress ended just above her knees. It accentuated her large curves rather nicely. Ronaldo had come in a red evening shirt and black slacks with a black necktie.

"Good evening!" they both exclaimed excitedly.

"Good evening!" their three friends echoed.

"You've still got our tickets, right?" Sophia asked, looking up at Ronaldo. He reached into his pocket and produced them with a nod. "I know we're kind of early, but that just gives us a little more time to chat before the show, you know?"

"More than just chat," Heather pointed out, starting to open up the mini purse she had brought along. "Help me remember after the performance, I want to pass out _these._"

She removed four photographs from the purse. They were still in pretty good condition, although they had one or two bent corners. It was actually the picture they had taken two weeks ago, outside Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

"I still have the original, since it was my camera, but I thought you guys might like copies?" she offered.

"Oh, definitely!" Phil agreed, as did everyone else. Jeremy seemed just as eager as the others, he noticed, which was good. He still worried about how the place might have affected him.

"Well then, speaking of cameras..." Heather tucked the photographs back in, only now she removed the same camera from before. "I definitely want us to get a picture like this, while we're all spruced up!"

"That is a great _idea_!" Ronaldo said gleefully, although he had inserted Spanish into his statement.

"Idea," Sophia said in English with a smile, gently poking a finger against the knot in his necktie.

As Heather tried to wave someone over to take their photo, Phil quickly tried to straighten his own necktie.

"Do you need a..." Jeremy paused for a second. "Do you need a little help?"

"Oh, yeah, that would probably be easier," Phil admitted, lifting the tie in Jeremy's direction.

Jeremy stepped closer and took the tie in both hands, undoing the flimsy knot that had been there previously. Phil had always known Jeremy was taller, but up close like this, it was that much more apparent. Heck, he was probably almost half a foot taller, if he had to guess. It also felt like that was how much space was between them. Phil swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on Jeremy's hands as he wove the ends of the tie around to form the knot.

"I-I had to learn how to knot ties from a video for, uh, stroke survivors, because of the whole... 'one-handed' thing. Can you believe that?" Phil sighed. "But e-even that's not good enough for my uncle, he still grumps at me if my tie isn't, uh, perfect, and _then_ he'll fix it. Life would be so much easier if I-I didn't have an arm like this, you know?"

"I... uh... I wouldn't know about that. But I'll take your word for it, sounds like it makes a lot of things difficult," Jeremy affirmed, as he pinched the spot under the knot to draw the tie a little bit tighter. "That's not too tight, is it?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thank you, Jeremy," Phil said, taking a few steps back to admire the new knot.

At that moment, Heather came walking back over, some random lady behind her with her camera.

"Come on, guys, it's picture time!" she announced. "Come on, we're just gonna stand in front of the tree over there."

Heather pointed to it, and the five of them gathered in front of it. Much like the original photo they had taken together, Jeremy and Ronaldo stood in the back while Heather, Phil, and Sophia stood in front.

"Okay, everyone, say 'cheese'!" the lady exclaimed.

"_Cheese!_"

The lady snapped two pictures for Heather, just to be safe, before handing the camera back to her.

"Thank you, ma'am," she expressed her gratitude as the lady left, before turning back to her friends. "So, how about we go find our seats?"

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Right here, see?" Heather declared, showing her program to Phil, who was seated on her right. "His name's here in the program."

Far below the cast list for the actors and actresses playing Carmen, Don José, and the other major characters were the list of performers in the more generic groups. And sure enough, right between "Tom Sanders" and "Brenda Thompson", was the name "Fritz Smith" among the performers playing the Roma. **(5)**

Jeremy looked over Phil's other shoulder to read the cast list.

"Oh, that's neat. When do the Roma show up?" Jeremy asked.

"I don't know, I haven't seen the show!" Heather shrugged.

"I don't think any of us have," Sophia commented from the other side of Jeremy. "Oh, this is so exciting! It'll be like a grand adventure for us all!"

They chatted for a little while longer, discussing their expectations and predictions for the plot, until the lights in the theater faded. Around the stage, however, a few screens lit up, displaying the words "Act I".

"What are those for?" Sophia whispered to Jeremy.

"I dunno," he replied. "They might - "

Jeremy's speech cut off and he jolted up in his seat in surprise as the orchestra in the pit began to play a riveting overture. It slowed pace, with the strings taking over, and Heather and Phil - particularly Heather - gasped in surprise. They knew _that_ melody. Even Jeremy recognized the tune after a few more seconds - the same song Bonnie had suddenly belted out two weeks ago.

At last the overture finished and everyone in the theater applauded. The curtains pulled back and the stage lit up as a new piece of music started, revealing a set designed like a small city square, one building notable for the words "_Fábrica de Tabacos_"printed on it.

"That is Spanish," Ronaldo commented to Sophia. "Is this Spain?"

Before she could answer, the screens around the stage had changed their displays from "Act I" to "Seville, Spain, circa 1820".

"Oh," they both murmured.

A few of the townspeople and several of the soldiers appeared on set, walking around the 'city' until the music shifted and they began to sing, although the language was not English. Once again, the screens changed, displaying surtitles for the lyrics.

"_In the square, everyone passes, everyone comes, everyone goes."_

Jeremy couldn't help but feel bad for Ronaldo. He couldn't say for sure, but based on all the 'j' and 'v' sounds used in the music, the lyrics were probably French. And the surtitles were presented in English, so he was probably going to be lost in translation for a few hours.

Everyone applauded as the first musical number came to an end, as a young lady unsuccessfully tried to find a soldier by the name of Don José. One of the soldiers spoke to another one, but in English.

"A lovely girl came by, asking for you!" he jested, nudging the other soldier. "She said she'd return."

"A lovely girl?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, that must have been Micaëla!"

So, this was Don José. He and Micaëla had both been listed as two of the major roles in the performance, so what about the other two?

Who was Carmen, and who was Escamillo?

That question... was partially answered a few minutes later, as a large group of workers stepped out of the tobacco factory.

"There he is, there he is!" Heather whispered excitedly.

It appeared that a lot of the workers must have been part of the Roma, but there was no way to tell who exactly Fritz was. Even so, he wasn't the highest priority at the moment, for Carmen herself had taken the stage.

The actress chosen to portray her was utterly beautiful, with rich coffee-brown hair that rippled halfway down her back. She sang the Habanera, warning about the dangers of her love, which earned her a hearty amount of applause at the end of the song.

Eventually, Act I came to an end, with Don José stripped of his rank after allowing Carmen to escape from her arrest. There was a brief intermission, allowing everyone to chat for a few minutes.

"Do you like it, Ronaldo?" Jeremy asked hesitantly.

"I do!" he affirmed with a grin. "The music words... I do not understand."

"I think that's because it is sung in French," Jeremy explained. "The words in music are called 'lyrics'. So, the lyrics in _Carmen_ are in French."

"'Lyrics'," Ronaldo repeated. "I see. The English on the TVs and what they say... I can understand a little of it. But I like the music and I like to watch them..."

Ronaldo made a few dramatic gestures in his seat, swinging his arms for show, careful not to hit Sophia.

"... Move? Act?" Jeremy tried to finish.

"Yes, how they move," Ronaldo confirmed. "I like the music, the moving, and I understand a little of the English."

"Maybe we can find a video of it in Spanish at the library," Sophia suggested, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe," he agreed, smiling back down at her. "And if not, maybe I can learn more English and we can see it again one day."

Jeremy smiled at that comment, deciding to let them chat amongst themselves for a little while, silently admiring the atmosphere of the theater.

The intermission came to an end, and Act II began, now in the inn of Lillas Pastia. It seemed that at least a month had passed, and Don José was about to be released from detention.

Carmen's story was starting to intrigue Phil. Don José appeared to be a man of order, yet Carmen seemed so free-spirited, seemingly perfect foils for one another. Her character was bold, almost enviably so, able to speak her mind and wear her emotions on her sleeve without fear. Was Carmen, perhaps, the antagonist, trying to tempt Don José into a life of evil? Or would they find their happy ending after facing a common foe? Come to think of it, one of the prominent characters mentioned in the program hadn't -

"_Vivat! Vivat le toréro! Vivat! Vivat Escamillo!_" chorused an unseen group backstage.

All five of them perked up.

One lady came running through a doorway onset, gleefully exclaiming, "It's the great bullfighter from Grenada, Escamillo!"

Save for Carmen, all the characters onstage grew excited, applauding wildly. A few of the extras even looked out to the crowd, encouraging them to applaud and cheer as well, as the actors and actresses resumed their cheers of "_Vivat! Vivat le toréro! Vivat! Vivat Escamillo!"_

And then, at last, the man of the hour emerged from the doorway, and everyone onstage cheered again, as Escamillo began to sing, proudly marching around the stage. Heather let out a soft gasp as he performed the all-too familiar lyrics.

"_Toréador, en garde! Toréador! Toréador!_  
><em>Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant,<em>  
><em>Qu'un œil noir te regarde...<em>_"_

Jeremy exchanged a brief look with Phil. It might have been so dark that they could barely see one another, but they both knew the other was smiling. Jeremy looked back up at the stage, reading the translated lyrics on the surtitles.

"_And that love awaits you, t__oréador! Love, love, is waiting for you!_"

Was there anything else in Act II? It was hard to say. Escamillo's performance had blown the five of them away, content to talk about how good everything had been during the intermission. Until that finally came to an end, as Act III was about to begin.

Darn, Jeremy realized, he should've taken the opportunity to ask Heather about what Fritz actually _looked_ like, to see if they could spot him during another point in the opera.Sure enough, she grew excited as the Roma appeared onstage again, now with Don José among them. But it appeared Carmen was growing tired of him, especially as he continued to think about how his mother was doing.

At another area of camp, two of the Roma women, Frasquita and Mercédes drew fortunes from their deck of cards, until Carmen grew intrigued and joined them.

Frasquita found promises of love. Mercédes beheld a future of fortune.

And Carmen? She tossed her cards to the ground with a sneer.

Death.

Love, fortune... despair, death... the words mingled among the trio until another man ran along, to warn them of strangers approaching. The first one, Micaëla, was harmless - even hiding behind a rock when she spotted someone aiming a gun in her direction. It turned out to be for the second stranger.

Escamillo.

Don José was rather surprised, asking him to confirm his identity. Escamillo flashed that charming grin and declared boldly,

"_C'est moi!_"

Don José was actually rather hospitable at first - _at first_ - until Escamillo revealed his true intentions.

"_For who wouldn't risk their life to see their beloved_?"

A few members of the audience 'ooh'ed as they read the surtitles. A few more gasps arose when Don José grittily explained to Escamillo that the price of loving was paid with a knife.

Escamillo drew his own knife, sparring with Don José, until he was thrown against a rock, the blade knocked from his hand, Don José towering over him, drawing his hand back to deliver the fatal blow, Phil almost looked away -

"_Holà, holà, José!_"

When Carmen dashed in, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. Escamillo thanked her for saving his life, giving her a parting kiss before he left.

One of the camp's men emerged from off-stage, dragging Micaëla along, stating he had found her hiding. She explained that Don José's mother had requested to see him. Even Carmen insisted that he leave, that he was not meant for this life, but Don José snapped back at her, clutching her in a chokehold, that he would not allow the chains binding them to be broken.

It was only when Micaëla explained that his mother was dying, that Don José submitted to her request. Carmen laughed as he left, though that laughter faded as she heard singing in the distance.

_"Toréador, en garde..._"

She finally grew quiet, looking off in the direction Escamillo had departed, before the stagelights grew dark.

_Another intermission?_ Jeremy wondered. But no, the music was quick to resume, and the surtitles indicated the scene was now set outside a bullring.

Escamillo and Carmen came out, arm-in-arm, professing their love to each other in a duet before he departed for his fight. Sophia let out a soft gasp, as she recognized the figure silently creeping onto the set.

Don José, now lurking behind one of the walls of the bullring.

Her friends even tried to warn her, but brave Carmen waved them off, stating that she refused to tremble before him. Frasquita and Mercédes departed, leaving Carmen be. She nonchalantly strutted around the stage with her paper fan, until at last, Don José came running in.

"_C'est toi!_" she declared coldly.

"_C'est moi!_" he replied darkly.

Everyone in the audience fell silent, for they knew the finale was near.

Don José begged her to come back with him, but Carmen laid down the truth - that she was done with him... and that she knew that he would kill her.

"No," Sophia gasped softly.

The two of them bickered, Carmen declaring that she was a free woman, as the crowd cheered in the bullring. A smile flashed across her face as the crowd cheered "_Victoire!_" and she started to head for the ring.

Until Don José grabbed her. She struggled and struggled, demanding him to let her go. He snarled and demanded to know if she loved the man in the bullring. She jerked one arm free, shoving Don José off of her, and turned around, standing tall.

"_Je l'aime!_" she declared, drawing a knife and holding it between herself and Don José. "_Je l'aime et devant la mort mème, je répéterai que je l'aime!"_

The crowd cheered some more, and she turned to leave, but Don José grabbed her from behind, knocking the knife from her grasp, insisting that he was damned because of her and that he would never let her go.

Sophia fidgeted in her seat, surely the bullfight was done, where were the spectators to break up this fight?

But once again, Carmen threw Don José off, and this time, threw the ring he had given her at him, the crowd triumphantly singing Escamillo's toreador song in the background as she flounced away -

Until Don José, now back on his feet with the previously flung-aside knife in his clutches, stabbed her in the back.

"... _L'amour, l'amour t'attend!_" the crowd sang out, as Carmen finally fell limply into Don José's arms.

Sophia let out a pained cry as he confessed to his crimes before the soldiers who had now gathered around, as the spectators filed out of the arena to stare at the scene... including Escamillo at the very rear.

The stage went dark as the music faded out and the theater filled with applause, the crowd rising to their feet as the cast took their bows.** (6)**

"All right, shall we - whoa, Sophia, are you okay?" Heather commented, now noticing her friend's reaction.

Her eyes were red and a little bit of her make-up had started to run, making the faint tear stains down her cheeks more prominent.

"Hey, come on, it's okay! They're actors!" Heather awkwardly stumbled past her three male friends to hug Sophia comfortingly.

"I-It's not that...!" Sophia fought hard to choke back a sob. "... sh-she really did love him l-like she said, and Escaramel loved her t-too... I didn't know this was going to end in a tragedy...!"

She hiccuped softly, Heather gently rubbing a circle against her back. Sophia gently patted Heather's back, pulling away.

"I-I'm sorry," she ran a knuckle under her eye to brush away a tear, before noticing a smudge of her make-up, which made her laugh slightly. "I probably look like a mess...! I'm going to head to the restrooms to freshen up a little."

"I'm heading that way too," Jeremy added. "I was hoping there would be an intermission after Act III, but instead I had to hold it. We'll meet you guys out in the lobby."

The five of them scooted out of the theater's main hall amidst the crowd of people, before Jeremy and Sophia diverged their paths to the restrooms.

"As for you guys..." Heather's voice trailed off, looking at Ronaldo and Phil, before she grinned. "... there's someone I'd like you to meet. Wait here."

She hurried off down one of the smaller hallways in the theater's lobby.

"So, did you like it?" Ronaldo asked.

"Oh, yeah!" Phil nodded eagerly. "It was good. I see why my father and Mr. Derbassier liked the opera so much."

"Is that why Bonnie has the same song?"

"I think that might be part of it, yeah," Phil agreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if one of the other animatronics has a recording from the opera too. It would probably be Freddy, though, since he _was_ the original. Maybe I'll get to hear it someday."

"All right, guys, here he _is_!" Heather cheered. "The man of the hour!"

"Heath - _oh my_," Phil's voice caught in his throat.

She walked up to them, arm-in-arm with a very tall man - taller than Ronaldo by an inch or two, even. He had clearly changed out of whatever his Roma costume had been, because he was now clad in simple black gym shorts and a gray tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination regarding his muscular body. This guy looked more like an Olympic athlete than an engineer who happened to be into theater.

He chuckled, his deep voice seeming to echo from his chest.

"Please. I am just an extra on the set," he insisted. He almost certainly had sung a tenor or baritone part in the play, based on his voice.

"Phil, Ronaldo, this is my friend, Fritz Smith," she introduced.

"Nice to meet you," he stated, offering a hand to shake. Unlike Ronaldo, who spoke broken English with a heavy Spanish accent, Fritz seemed to speak fluent English with only a hint of an accent in his voice. Most likely German, based on his blond hair and blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you," Ronaldo replied, shaking hands.

"Uh..." Phil remained quiet, tucking his hand and arm into his pockets. "... hi."

"Don't be shy," Fritz reassured, though he couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't bite."

Phil mumbled something under his breath, reaching out his left hand to shake. Fritz took it and shook it heartily.

"What's up with you, Phil?" Heather asked.

"N-nothing!" he quickly insisted, letting go of Fritz's hand, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Why are you so sh- _oh,_" Heather remarked, looking up at Fritz. Her eyes grew wider and she spoke louder. "_OH...!_"

"I-it's not that!" Phil tried to defend, his voice cracking as his face turned redder.

"Then what is it?" Heather asked, putting her hands on her hips, keeping her voice lower so other attendees wouldn't notice them. "One of our friends is gay, why would we treat you any different? You have nothing to be uncomfortable about."

"Why would you _say_ that?!" Phil hissed. "A-and besides, I like girls!"

"You can like both," Heather argued. "... I do. I just don't feel any sort of romantic attraction to people."

"The same is true for me," Fritz agreed. "I have had to explain to girls that I am not attracted to them... and when boys ask, I explain that I am not attracted to them either."

"Look... okay... I-I just want to keep this a secret, okay? N-none of you can tell anybody!" Phil demanded adamantly.

"Because of your uncle. It's cool, man, we know," Heather reassured. Ronaldo held up a finger to his lips and nodded.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Hey, guys, how's it going?" Jeremy asked, walking up with Sophia. "Oh, hey, are you Fritz, by any chance?"

"I am," he confirmed, extending a hand to shake.

"I'm Jeremy, pleased to meet you."

"Oh, and I'm Sophia!" she shook hands with him after Jeremy, her face clear of make-up but her expression was brighter than before. "You guys were great!"

"Thank you," he said with a smile, before turning back to Heather. "It was nice to meet your friends, but I'm sure the rest of the cast wants to see me backstage. If you'll excuse me..."

She exchanged a hug with him, and let Fritz leave.

"Well, I had fun tonight!" Jeremy commented. "We should try to get together again soon!"

"For sure," Heather agreed. "I wonder what we should do? Are you thinking, Sophia?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, and looked around at her friends. "Hey, you guys remember how we exchanged phone numbers and addresses, right?"

"Right," Heather replied.

"... what about our birthdays? I mean, we could try to get together and celebrate one of those at some point. Although it probably wouldn't be my birthday, since it's so far away... February 26, actually."

"And my birthday was over the summer. July 8th," Phil stated.

"I'm a summer boy too," Jeremy agreed. "May 5th."

"Okay, whoa, we should be writing these down," Heather remarked, holding her hands out in front of her. "... but yeah, mine's December 16th. How about you, big guy?"

"Oh, me?" Ronaldo asked. A grin spread across his face as he began to speak excitedly. "Actually... very, very soon! September... uh... 'oneth'?"

"September 1st?" Sophia corrected. "Wow, how exciting! You should have told us sooner!"

"Yes, I am very excited. I do not know if Frank was nice and did it on purpose, but he gave me that day off."

"No kidding?" Jeremy asked. "I actually have that Tuesday off as well."

"Oh, we can 'hang out'!" Ronaldo exclaimed.

"Sure, if that's what you want!"

"Yo, we might have to go out that night," Heather stated. "... you'll be twenty-one, right?"

"Yes."

"Yeah! You finally get your coke and rum, man!" she exclaimed. "And I have the night off, so I can take the three of us out to a bar!"

"Oh... couldn't we make it another night out somewhere?" Sophia asked. "I work the morning shift on Tuesday, so I'm available that night."

"Phil, what's wrong?" Jeremy asked.

His excited smile had slowly fallen as everyone else had chatted about planning something for Ronaldo's birthday.

"... I'm stuck working Tuesday night," he confessed.

"Oh no!" Sophia gasped, clutching her hands to her face. "Well, maybe on Thursday, we can - "

"I work a night shift on Thursday," Ronaldo stated.

"H-hey, remember what I was saying to you earlier in the week?" Phil commented to Jeremy. "There's bound to be a few occasions where we can't _all_ get together. So... it's okay. I'm sorry I'll miss your birthday, Ronaldo, but I hope you have a good time."

"Thank you, Phil. I'm sorry."

"I-it's not your fault! There's nothing to worry about!" he smiled. "I'll only be upset if you _ don't_ have a good time on your birthday."

The five of them walked outside, admiring the stars and moon.

"All right. I'll call you guys and we'll talk about plans for Tuesday, okay?" Heather commented, starting to head for her car in the parking lot. "Good night!"

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 1, 1987_

Phil wiped his brow as he turned off the lights, knowing that John would be arriving in an hour to handle the night watch.

It was a good thing he'd had a fun night on Thursday, because Friday and the rest of the weekend brought in a number of parties. And Monday was packed with classes. And today was... well, it was his first biology lab, but that wasn't the stressful part. A few parents felt like letting a few of their kids stay after school. Kindergarteners, to be specific. And he'd had to deal with Loxy suffering some more damage. She and Foxanne were starting to look like a mess, but he decided he'd rather wait for Heather to fix the damage in the morning than try to call in a mechanic and pay extra. Although he had wished his friends well, he still couldn't help but envy them for having the night off to drink and eat and be merry.

At least September meant autumn was on the way, and tonight seemed to reflect that, as the breeze was a little cooler tonight as he walked up to his Mercury Sable. He got in the car and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes with an exasperated sigh. It was so early in the semester, but the pressures of a full-time job and being a college student at the same time were starting to catch up with him.

_Knock-knock-knock._

His eyes fluttered open, and he glanced at the window where he heard the knocking. His eyes widened a little more when he recognized the face outside.

"Jeremy?" he asked, opening the door.

"Hey, Phil. Car trouble?"

"Oh... uh... no," he replied.

"Oh," Jeremy laughed, nodding over to the van in the parking lot. "Lucky you."

"Oh, Jeremy... I'm sorry..." Phil apologized. "But, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Well, everyone else went home... but..." he shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "... I couldn't help but wonder how you were doing. You come to visit me everyday at work... I thought it was only fair I did the same. You wanna take a look at my new van?"

Why not? It would take his mind off work.

"All right," Phil agreed, stepping out of his car.

Jeremy took Phil by the hand, leading him over to the van. He opened the side door, allowing him to take a proper look inside. It appeared to have undergone some modifications, since the seats that usually went in the middle had been removed, leaving only the front seats and a large amount of space in the back.

"It's pretty spacious," Phil commented, climbing inside. He flopped down on the back seat. "What would you need with all that space?"

Jeremy stepped into the van as well, closing the door behind him. His smile faded, and he sighed.

"You can't hide it forever, Phil. Heather's not the only one with good perception."

"I-I'm sorry?" he stammered.

"Phil," Jeremy whispered, his voice lower and surprisingly huskier. "_I know._"

He took a few steps toward the backseat, Phil unable to take his eyes off him.

"You can stop me, you know. Just say so, and I'll stop," he sat on the edge of the backseat next to Phil.

Jeremy leaned in close, surprisingly bold, his face only inches away from Phil's.

"Are you going to ask me to stop?" he whispered again in that lowered voice.

His breath was warm in contrast to the cool September air around them, even in the car, and it burned deep inside Phil, until the smoke finally escaped him in a definitive whisper.

"_No._"

After the words had passed his lips, Jeremy pressed his own against them. Phil clutched at the shirt he had been wearing with his hand, his other arm draped across his shoulders, pulling him in. Their kiss deepened, Phil letting out a soft but satisfied moan as Jeremy clutched his hips.

His thoughts swirled in his head, a convoluted cloud of "please don't let anyone catch us" and "more" and "Jeremy" and "_MORE_".

Phil pulled out of the kiss for a moment to catch his breath, only for Jeremy to move his lips down his neck - gently, to avoid leaving any evidence. So much for catching his breath, as he let out a ragged gasp, the touches light enough to send chills down his spine and make the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Jeremy's hands moved, undoing the buckle of Phil's belt, followed by the button of his pants. Phil reached out a trembling hand toward the fly of Jeremy's jeans, but he gently took it and placed it to his lips.

"You work so hard, Phil," Jeremy commented, lowering his hand. "It's all about you tonight, okay? Don't worry about me."

With that, he let go of Phil's hand and unzipped his pants, sliding them down a little. He was already bulging against his underwear, and he looked away from Jeremy, who let out an amused breath.

"Wh-what...?" Phil asked, his face red, still not able to face him.

"It's natural, don't worry," Jeremy reassured, leaning in to kiss Phil on the cheek. "... But damn, you're so cute..."

He let his hand slide down, his palm gently massaging him through the fabric. Phil let out a moan, raising his hips, allowing Jeremy to pull his pants and underwear down to his knees. Then his hand gently wrapped around him and _moved._

Phil leaned forward, unable to contain his moans, wrapping his arms around Jeremy's back and burying his face in his shoulder as pleasure began to take over his body.

"M-more... Jeremy... more... fuck, it's not enough..." Phil groaned, trying to rock his hips into Jeremy's hand for that extra little bit of friction that would finally push him over. "P-please, Jeremy..."

"Okay," Jeremy whispered in reply, his breath hot against his ear.

His hand picked up speed and Phil shuddered, burying his face deeper into Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy's other hand, however, gently cupped Phil's chin and lifted his face from his shoulder. They locked lips again as Jeremy continued to move his hand, faster, faster, fuck YES, oh, YES, he was almost there, _come on, just_ -

He pulled back suddenly from the kiss with a gasp, which then shifted to a cry of raw pleasure, as he threw his head back and suddenly felt like everything around the two of them had exploded into nothingness, his hips rocking involuntarily as he came down from that climax. Jeremy planted another gentle kiss to the exposed area of his neck as Phil caught his breath.

Phil sighed contentedly, slumping forward, completely spent, to rest his forehead against Jeremy's shoul-

Steering wheel. His forehead connected with the steering wheel, and now half-awake, Phil jerked back, clutching his forehead with a disgruntled groan. He looked out the front window of his car. It was still night time, but he recognized John's car in the parking lot as well.

He leaned forward in his seat to insert the key into the ignition, when he froze. There was definitely a sticky, moist spot in his pants, and he blushed upon realization. He shook his head, starting up his car, the digital clock on the radio indicating it was about 4:14 am.

Perhaps it was just because he had dreamt about him, but he still remembered Jeremy's words from their study session a week ago.

_"... But then, a variable changes in the environment and throws everything out of balance."_

He let out a frustrated sigh and drove out of the parking lot, heading back to his apartment.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**(1) It's so hard writing about prices from a time period you weren't alive in or have documented grocery ads for. I calculated the coffee price by comparing inflation rates from 1987 to 2014 (pretty much everything has doubled in price), so I divided the cost of a 33 oz container of coffee (about $8) by the same inflation rate and got about 3.79... but I also factored in a sales tax of 6 percent because numbers. So if there's anybody who remembers buying coffee at a different price... please let me know so I can correct this.**

**(2) Jimjam brings up a good point! While some birds do have toothed beaks, such as some varieties of geese, these are not actual teeth! They are actually serrations known as **_**tomia**_**. Just wanted to drop a neat bird fact in your lap.**

**(3) Credit to phxnegxy on tumblr for the cute tee shirt design featured in one of his drawings!**

**(4) I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR THE BIOLOGY LECTURE... however, I assure you, it actually does serve a purpose.**

**(5) The Roma are a nomadic people, but the more common name for them (g-psy) is actually a slur, so I chose to omit it even though that is how it is traditionally presented in the opera. Also, fun fact to lighten the mood, Brenda Thompson is actually the name of one of my OCs.**

**(6) If you made it through my new theater production known as "My Poor Attempt at an Abridged **_**Carmen**_** Retelling for the Sake of Plot Devices: A Love Story", and want to actually **_**see**_** the real opera, I watched the Wichita Grand Opera's performance (twice) to help create this part of the story. They have the whole opera posted on Youtube. I would advise you to stay away from making too many FNAF references, as they are on pretty much every video of the Toreador Song, and you can see why it would get annoying.**


	6. Flame

_**"Five Nights at Freddy's", its sequel, and all related canon characters are property of Scott Cawthon. Also features my OCs and some character and plot interpretations that may not be canon based on future games.**_

**Although it is mentioned as part of a flashback, please be aware that this chapter contains the use of a homophobic slur.**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Chapter 6: Flame**

_September 2, 1987_

Phil reached into the fridge for some orange juice to wash down his breakfast.

"It was a dream," he reminded himself, now dressed in more casual attire for his classes, the sound of the dryer rattling in the utility room.

He poured a small glass and tucked the carton back into the fridge.

"I-it was probably the pizza I ate that day... Ronaldo wasn't cooking, so maybe Kim tried something different with the recipe..." he tried to justify, looking at the door of the fridge as he drank the juice. In addition to Austin's drawing, he now kept the photo he had taken with his friends pinned to the door with another magnet.

"... I need to stop talking to photos and get to class..." he mumbled with a sigh, setting the empty glass on the counter and heading out of the kitchen.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

One hundred percent.

It seemed so hard to believe. There had been a pop quiz on Monday with a single question - name the seven factors to determine if something is alive - and he had aced it, as evidenced by the paper he had gotten back.

And it was probably all thanks to...

"_I know._"

Phil shook his head, as if that would somehow dislodge Jeremy's voice and that line from his head. Nobody had to know about that dream. He could carry the secret with him for fifty more years to his grave if he had to.

... Until then, however, he had work. After a quick stop at his apartment to eat lunch and to change into his uniform, he was now back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. There was also a little bit of a guilty pleasure in knowing that his uncle would be out today. And, hey, tomorrow would be his day off as well!

"Hey, Phil."

"Hey, J... J..."

The moment he had stepped inside, he had spotted Jeremy in his Picnix uniform heading down the hallway towards him, and now he was a stammering mess in the doorway.

"Phil, is everything - "

"W-Why are you here?"

"Oh," Jeremy glanced over to the main area. "Heather invited me over on break today. She offered me her share of pizza, but... I can't stop feeling like I'm mooching off you guys."

His brows furrowed.

"But enough about that, what about you? You're... are you _sweating_? You're not feverish, are you?"

"S-sorry, I have to clock in!"

"Oh, uh, see ya, Ph-"

He bolted past Jeremy before his face turned any redder. Thank goodness for having a legitimate excuse to get out of there. Although, by the time he had punched in - only seconds before he would've been counted as tardy - he started to feel guilty. Generic as the phrases were, they did have their own sort of special farewell to each other.

Phil silently returned to the main hallway, hoping for some trace of Jeremy - even poking his head out of the front door in case he was still in the lot - but he had already left. He sulked back towards the main area, only to find Heather had come after him.

"Yo, Phil, is everything okay?"

"Fine, Heather, e-everything's fine," he took a deep breath, tucking his hand and arm into his pockets, and straightening his back.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing's up. I-I'm fine," he lied - curse his infernal stammering! - keeping his eyes on her.

"Really?" her tone was not inquisitive, but flat.

Shit. She could tell he was starting to get antsy.

"Well, you're a good assistant manager. You know there are some discussions that are best kept private," as she said this, she glanced up in the direction of the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere."

Even if his uncle never really paid attention to the security footage - he usually left it to the guards, like Heather and John - taking special precautions couldn't hurt. Phil slowly nodded and followed her through the game area to the employees-only area... where there were no security cameras. Phil still couldn't help but think this was a major oversight, but at least the safety of the children was still first priority.

"All right, spill the beans," she demanded. "What's got you so jumpy? Did you see someone suspicious?"

"N-no, safety-wise, everything's fine. Although that's your job, not mine."

"Jobs... yeah..." she leaned against the wall and sighed. "Maybe we should call Jeremy and invite him over on his break."

"But he's already back at - " he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"How would _you_ know he's back at work? Like he had just gotten off his break?" she asked slyly.

"S-so I ran into him in the hallway..." Phil dismissed. "So what?"

"Well, you're redder than a tomato, for starters," Heather pointed out. "Second, the last time I saw that happen, you bumped into Mr. West Germany in all his muscular glory."

"I-I still don't know, uh, what you're talking about..." Phil denied, his arguments growing as weak as his knees as he leaned backwards against the opposite wall.

Heather flashed a mischievous grin.

"_Someone's got a crush...!_" she declared in a sing-song voice.

"Heather! Ugh!" Phil rolled his eyes. "I-I don't understand how you're the oldest among us, a-and yet, somehow, the m-most childish!"

She straightened her posture and folded her arms.

"... Real talk. Are you into Jeremy?" she inquired.

"I... uh..." Phil thought for a moment. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Keeping secrets is what I do... second-best. The first thing is engineering," she couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, so 'fess up!"

"... Yes," he admitted, lowering his head and the volume of his voice.

"All right. You like Jeremy. That's all there is to it," Heather stated simply. "I mean, you already know he likes guys, so... that's one bridge you've crossed."

"Well, yeah, but just because a person likes guys doesn't mean they like _every_ guy!" Phil argued.

"True, true," Heather agreed. "... so just start dropping hints. Little breadcrumbs to your gingerbread love shack!"

"_Heather!_"

"Yeah, that joke was too forward... I'm sorry," she apologized, before quickly resuming her speech. "But all the same, if you let him know you're interested, maybe he'll open up a little! Like... I wouldn't make it the first thing you ask, but figuring out if he's seeing anyone is important. Just... take some time to think about it, develop a game plan."

"This isn't a game," Phil argued, then shook his head. "L-look, we can talk about this another time, okay? Right now, we should be keeping an eye on the kids."

He walked past her quickly, back into the game area, before Heather had a chance to object.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 3rd, 1987_

_"Brace yourself. Labor Day weekend is coming."_

Those were his father's words last night on the phone, and Phil was certainly going to take it to heart. Ibuprofen, creamer, sugar, coffee filters, a box of bandages, and an industrial-sized tin of coffee filled his cart as he made his way to the registers at Picnix.

Or rather, _the _register.

"Good afternoon, Phil," Jeremy greeted him with a smile. "Gotta restock the employee supply again, huh?"

"Oh, no, this is for me," he replied nonchalantly. "I need it for the weekend."

"For _you_?" Jeremy asked incredulously. "For one weekend? Phil, that's not exactly healthy..."

"I-I can't help it!" he defended. "I've got a project due in my advertising class on Wednesday, a-and I'm working the next four days straight, since I won't have classes on Monday. What about you?"

"Well, I'm working on Monday as well," Jeremy said, ringing up Phil's groceries. "But I have Tuesday and Friday off."

"Ah, _bene!_" Phil exclaimed. "I have Tuesday off as well. We should hang out."

"'_Bene_'? And what about your project?" Jeremy asked.

"Oh, _bene_ is Italian for 'good'. I just... wanted to show off a little, heh. I can teach you a little if you'd like, even if I don't know that much of it. A-and don't worry about the project, I'll have enough spare time over the four days to get it done... e-even with my job." **(1)**

Jeremy looked down, appearing to think it over for a moment.

"... Yeah. I'd like that. Every time you come visit Picnix from now on, you have to teach me a new word in Italian, all right?"

"All right. So, I guess I'll see you Tuesday, then!"

"_Bene!_" Jeremy agreed, as he finished scanning the items. "Your total is eleven twenty-four."

Phil handed him a few bills and a quarter, needing only a penny in change.

"Thank you for shopping at Picnix and come again," Jeremy stated. "See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

Phil left the store, groceries in hand and adequately prepared (or so he believed) for the next four days, but somehow the most fulfilling part of the trip was giving Jeremy a proper goodbye this time.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 4th, 1987_

Fridays usually wound up being big hits with the kids, there was no surprise there. Sure enough, two parties had been booked for that afternoon - the first one to be hosted by Emmett (with Phil nearby to supervise), and the second one to be hosted by Daisy. She was a food science major at the local university, and a very bright girl, capable of handling things on her own. Much like Anita, the English major.

There would be five parties tomorrow, each one to be officially covered by a different host - the first and second by Frank, the third by Phil, the fourth by Daisy, and the fifth by Anita.

"Hi, um, Phillip?" Anita asked, as he finished clearing a table. She picked up a few cups from the other table. "Can I... have a word with you?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I'm... um..." she hesitated, biting her lip and kicking the toe of her shoe against the floor. "... I'm starting to think I can't handle this party on my own..."

"Come on, that's no way to think! You'll do fine!" Phil reassured, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She tried to bite back a little smile, glancing over at his hand.

"Still... I... I just think I'd feel better if I had someone with me. I've handled parties on my own, but I've got the largest one, and it's the latest one I've hosted yet..."

"It's only three guests extra, you can do it!" Phil continued trying to motivate her.

"I dunno, I just think I'd feel better with someone there to help me. Someone with more experience..." her voice trailed off as she twirled a strand of her short brown hair around one finger. "... like Frank."

"Frank?" Phil asked with a frown. "Uh... he's going to be hosting two of the parties tomorrow... y-you can see why he might not be the best option, right?"

"There has to be _someone else_ with a good amount of party experience... right?"

Phil looked around the empty party room before letting out a sigh.

"I-I guess... I could help you out with the party..." he offered reluctantly.

"Would you really?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. "Thank you so much, Phil, you're the best assistant manager a girl could ask for."

Anita poked his nose playfully before leaving to throw away the other cups she had collected, but Phil couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't been 'playing' at all.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 5, 1987_

"Day two out of four is almost done..." Phil stated as he handed his turkey sub to Jeremy. "... I can make it."

"I dunno, man, you don't look so good..." Jeremy countered with a frown.

"I'll be okay, really. _Ciao,_" Phil dismissed, walking off with a wave. "That's the word of the day. It means 'bye'."

"Don't you '_ciao_' me. You don't even have your 'chow'," Jeremy snorted, as he rang up the sub. "Your total is three thirty-eight."

Phil huffed and handed over a five.

"Your change is one sixty-two," Jeremy remarked, before entering the numbers in the register. Right as always. He handed over a new bill and a few coins to Phil.

"Take it easy, okay?" Jeremy suggested. "Don't go overboard on the coffee. Thank you and come visit Picnix again. See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

He drove back to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and ate in the car, before clocking back in, the end of his break only twenty minutes before the party started. He smiled at the faint sound of the animatronics entertaining the kids... they were performing the routine where Bonnie sang the Toreador Song.

"Phil! Heeey!" Anita called out to him from Party Room 3. "Check it out!"

He looked around, finding - much to his delight - that decorations had been set up, the tables were set... the only things missing were the kids and parents.

"Anita, this is fantastic!" Phil marveled, gazing up at the glittery banners that declared 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' in bold blue letters. "Is everything ready?"

"Everything is ready," she confirmed with a nod. "The cake and pizza orders are in, I made sure Ricardo-"

"Ronaldo."

"... whatever. I made sure he's going to be okay for the costume, since it is his turn... lucky I didn't get stuck with George..."

Phil sighed and nodded.

"But, yeah, everything is good to go!" she chirped. "So... do you wanna hang out for a little while? Until the guests actually arrive?"

"I, uh... I suppose that would be nice..." he mumbled. "But let's at least _do_ something while we're at it, so we stay productive... maybe do a little bit of cleaning around the main area."

She agreed, but rolled her eyes as soon as he turned around.

They went around, tossing out an abandoned paper cup here, a wadded-up napkin there, or picking up a dropped token off the floor and giving it to the nearest child. They chatted as they went... or at least, Anita tried to. Phil often found himself going off on other tangents, or stopping to chat with the children or see how the parents were doing.

"Oh, great!" Phil exclaimed, looking up at the clock. "We made a full lap of the area, and just in time for the party! Let's go get Ronaldo and start greeting the guests!"

Anita let out a heavy sigh but forced herself to smile.

The party wound up going fantastically. Since it was night, Ronaldo had no troubles with the costume, even though he still stuck to the twenty-minute rotation, just to stay safe. Anita actually seemed to have no trouble at all, though she still hung around close to Phil's side. After the parents had left (several of them tipping Phil and Anita), and the entire facility had been cleaned for the night, Anita once again approached Phil.

"So, good party tonight, right?"

"Y-yeah! You did great, Anita. I told you you'd be okay!"

"You were right, Phil! Thank you sooo much!" she swooned, before wrapping her arms around him suddenly, knocking the breath out of him.

He chuckled awkwardly and patted her shoulder.

"Uh... you're welcome," Phil wheezed. "... I would've done the same thing for Daisy or Emmett."

"Oh, you're just saying that," she teased, letting him go. "You're so sweet."

He laughed softly, looking off to the side.

"Speaking of which... I know a pretty nice ice cream parlor," Anita remarked, her voice trailing off into a seductive whisper. Her hand slid up his against his shoulder. "I think it's a pretty _sweet_ place for dates... if you know what I'm saying."

"U-um... no..." he jerked his shoulder away from her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"No, you don't know what I'm asking...?" she asked playfully.

"N-no... I mean... I'm not interested at this time, but thank you."

"Wh-but-" she spluttered. "I thought... are you seeing someone?"

Phil shook his head.

"No..."

"Then what's stopping you?"

He tucked his hand and his arm into his pockets.

"Oh, y-you know... just... busy with work... i-it can be hard to find an opening..."

"That's a lie!" Anita snapped with a pout. "You always have Thursdays off!"

He let out a heavy sigh, untucked his arms, and folded them defensively.

"Okay, fine. I admit it... there is someone I'm interested in. A-and I'm sorry, but... I want to wait and see if we have a chance at a relationship."

"So, wait, you don't even _know- "_

"We should really clock out now. It's unprofessional to stay longer than necessary."

He dropped the subject and walked past her to clock out, telling himself over and over not to look back. Besides, he could get in a few more hours on his advertising project if he made it home early.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 6, 1987_

"I really don't like this," Jeremy shook his head, as he rang up the chicken tender sub for Phil. "Phil... I know it sounds unprofessional, but... maybe you should consider calling out sick tomorrow."

"I can't do it, Jeremy..." he shook his head limply. "I can't do it."

"You need to get some sleep-"

"I _AM!_" Phil snapped suddenly. The volume of his own voice seemed to jar him, and he returned to his usual calm demeanor quickly. "I-I mean... I _am_ getting sleep, okay."

"How much?"

"You're not my doctor..." Phil grumbled. "About four hours each night. L-look, when I'm done with the weekend, I'll get _plenty _of sleep. I won't be staying up past 3 am for multiple nights ever again. Okay, _ciao. _N-no, I think I did that one already. U-um... what haven't I taught you yet..."

"What areas of Italian do you know? I know you know the basics, but what about, say... animals? Or numbers?"

"Oh, uh, I pretty much just know the basics. And food. And also some lovey-dovey stuff, since Mom enjoys it when Dad speaks Italian."

"I see. Your total is four forty-five, please."

"Yeah, please..." Phil mumbled, as he fished out a five from his wallet. "In Italian, you say '_per favore'._ Or '_prego'_, but you can also use '_prego'_ to say 'you're welcome'."

"_'Per favore_' and '_prego_', huh?" Jeremy asked, as he handed Phil his change. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you and come visit Picnix again, _per favore._ See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

Phil's lunch may have been pleasant, but his arrival at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza? Not so much.

"Anita can't come in today," Frank grumbled, as Phil clocked in. "She's not 'emotionally stable' enough to handle work today."

"Are you kidding me? _Really_, Anita?" Phil griped, slapping his hand to his forehead.

"What?" Frank asked, folding his arms. "Do you know something about this?"

Phil let out an exasperated sigh.

"Last night, I... kind of turned her down for a date," he frowned, now sympathizing with her. "I-I guess that would be kind of upsetting... a-and to be fair, everyone's, uh, emotional stability is different..."

"Why would you even turn her down?"

Maybe it was the caffeine from all the coffee, but Phil could've sworn he felt his pulse skyrocket. No, stay calm, _stay calm_, he had to stay calm.

"I-I, uh... I-I'm just not interested in her," he stated nonchalantly with a shrug, hoping it would help him appear indifferent.

"... I see," Frank replied, narrowing his eyes.

Why did he do that? Did he know something? What if something had been leaked... maybe there were tiny hidden cameras in the employee area, and Heather wasn't aware, and maybe -

"You need to quit drinking all that coffee, Phil," Frank stated, shaking his nephew by the shoulder. "You're paler than snow, and you're shaking like you've been buried in it, for pete's sake!"

"S-sorry, Unc... Mr. Fazari."

He shook his head.

"Well, Anita was scheduled to host a party, and she had previously volunteered to help Emmett with his party," Frank recalled. "You were hosting the other party so... how about you be the one to help Emmett, and I'll take over for Anita's party."

Phil nodded weakly, before dashing away from his uncle's presence. He couldn't run for long, as his heart started pounding like a timpani, and he practically collapsed against the wall to catch his breath. He mentally cursed himself for feeling so weak, willing his body to keep going, and he pushed himself off, walking out into the game area.

Emmett's party was first, so he'd have to be ready for anything...

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 7, 1987_

At long last, Labor Day had finally arrived. And while his professors were probably relishing in the chance to do something other than lecture, Phil still had to come in to work. After all, the elementary schools were closed for the day as well, so what better place to send the kids than Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?

_Freddy Fazbear's Pizza... where magic and fun come to life... we can't BEAR to wait, so come see us soon..._

Part of his advertising project had involved making slogans for at least ten products, and now his mind seemed stuck on slogans.

"Mister!"

"... A beary good time for all..."

"Mister Phil!"

A sharp tug on his hand woke him from his stupor.

"Beary sorr... I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Mister Phil!" the girl insisted. "The little kids broke Loxy again!"

"They WHAT?!"

He ran after her into the Kids Cove, appropriately filled with childish laughter and screaming, just in time for a child about four years old to run past the doorway with a trophy lifted high above his head - Foxanne's head. Two of them jumped on Loxy's now-exposed exoskeleton, her actual body frame... who knows where. Stuffing and fabric littered the room like it had only a week or two prior.

"E-everyone!" Phil tried to call for the kids' attention. "Um, everyone, please... let's settle down now, okay?"

They continued ignoring him, two boys tossing an animatronic eyeball like a baseball between them for a game of catch.

"Hey, don't do that!" Phil snapped, trying to grab the eyeball in mid-air.

Unfortunately, his hand-eye coordination was pretty off, thanks to a lack of sleep, and the other boy caught the eyeball just fine. Even more unfortunate, Phil's foot-eye coordination was even more off, and he stumbled forward onto his stomach after missing the ball.

The children laughed at the silly grown-up lying on the floor, but they all gasped at the voice of Phil's salvation.

"FREE CANDY!"

George Thornton's voice rang out loud enough to be heard from the Prize Counter, and all the kids squealed and screamed in delight, running out of Kids' Cove in a stampede. Phil let out a few cries of pain as the occasional foot managed to land on his arms or fingers. One kid, however, apparently decided they wanted bragging rights and used his back like a springboard to jump, Phil letting out a terrible mix of a grunt and a wheeze as the wind was forced out of his lungs. He didn't even have a chance to see the kid, so there was no way to report to the parents. He curled up into a ball on his side, looking across the room at what remained of Loxy's endoskeleton.

_I can't tell if she's more mangled looking than I am,_ Phil thought to himself in bitter amusement.

"_Phillip!_"

He rolled over pretty darn quickly, wincing at the pain in his back, at the sound of his uncle's voice.

Frank stood ominously in the doorway to Kids' Cove, looking down at his nephew and tapping his foot impatiently.

"I, uh... I-I..."

"... You said they broke her again, right?" he could hear Heather's voice drawing near, toolbox in hand, and she was with the same little girl from before. "... Oh, wow."

Stepping into the room, the first thing she did was help pull Phil up off the floor, before settling in the corner near Loxy's endoskeleton.

"I know everyone has their 'off-days', but this is _ridiculous_!" Frank snapped. "You're supposed to be _management_, but if someone like George Thornton can get a group of kids under control, why can't you?!"

"I-I'm sorry, Unc... sir..." he replied, a lump threatening to form in his throat.

He swallowed away the pain, trying to push it out of his mind. He didn't want Heather to see him in a mess, and if his uncle ever saw him crumble... he would be demoted for sure.

"I-it..." Phil took a deep breath. "... it won't happen again."

"It better not! Look at this! We've had to fix this animatronic so many times now! We can't keep pulling money out of our budget for this!" he ran a hand down his face with a heavy groan. "... One more try. We'll try to keep Loxy intact one more time. After that... I dunno. I'll figure something out. I always do."

With that, Frank turned and left Kids' Cove.

"Maybe you should have Sophia take a look at you, make sure nothing's seriously hurt or something," Heather suggested, an unusually gentle tone to her voice. "Even if you just drink a glass of water, do something to make yourself feel better, okay?"

"Okay," Phil murmured, slowly dragging himself out of Kids' Cove as well.

He immediately headed to the first-aid station, having Sophia check his arms, legs, and back. Nothing seemed seriously injured as far as she could tell, aside from apply a few bandages to an abraded elbow and a cut on his arm, but she did advise him to take it easy for a few days, as he'd definitely be seeing some bruises show up. Sophia gave him a glass of water, some ibuprofen, and a piece of candy - for being good, she'd told him with a wink - and let him return to work.

The rest of the day went by slowly, but not painfully, at least. Phil even found his mood brightening as his shift came to an end, and he clocked out, and finally drove home - except for the part where he almost ran a red light, that wasn't very pleasant.

But he switched on his electric coffee pot, feeling motivated to finish the project tonight, and made the phone call he had been waiting all day for.

"_Hello?_" asked the voice on the other end. It... definitely wasn't Jeremy.

"Hello, hello, uh, is this Pat, by any chance?"

"_Yeah... uh... do I know you?_"

"Oh, uh, my name's Phil. Is Jeremy available?"

"_Oh, yeah, you're one of the friends Jeremy's told me about. Hang on._"

It sounded like Pat put the phone down on the table, before yelling Jeremy's name. Funny... there wasn't that much caffeine still in his system, yet his heart skipped a beat when he heard Jeremy's voice. He heard the receiver shuffle against the table before Jeremy's voice came through more clearly.

"Hello, hello!"

"_Hey, Phil! The weekend's finally over, you made it! Are you heading to bed soon?_"

"Uh... not quite yet..." Phil admitted.

"_Phil..._"

"I'm _almost_ done with my project, it shouldn't take too long. And I also wanted to call you regarding our plans for tomorrow!"

"_... O-oh. Right."_

"Is something wrong?"

"_N-no. I'm okay. What did you have in mind?_"

"Well... I'd like to study some biology with you, if that's okay. But I... I've been thinking... you're working so hard to help me without any kind of... payment. I-it kind of feels like you're, uh, tutoring me for free, and that doesn't seem fair, you know?"

"_I really don't mind, it's fine._"

"But _I _do! A-and besides, we might as well do something fun while we have the day off," Phil pointed out. "So, since you're worried about money... and since the weather has been so great this September... I was thinking we could go out to... uh... what's it called? Lakeview Park."

"_Is it an aptly named park?_"

"It sure is," Phil replied with a chuckle. "So why don't we go to a cafe, uh, I'll buy us some coffee and something sweet while we study, and then we'll go take a walk around the park and look at the lake to relax after that. Oh! Maybe... maybe I could even bring some bread, and we can feed any fish or ducks we see!"

"_We really shouldn't make them dependent on humans for food, though..._" Jeremy let out a small sigh on the other end. "_... but... I guess it would be kind of fun. And if you're happy... then I'm happy._ _Just don't feed them too much._"

"We won't."

"_And don't overdo it tonight or tomorrow with the coffee, okay?_"

"I _won't!_" Phil insisted playfully. "I'll be fine."

"_You sure?_"

"I'm sure, really!"

"_Okay... what time should I meet you?_"

"Oh, um... well, with my lab, I-I guess one o'clock is our best bet..."

"_Do you still have to go to your lab even though it's the week of Labor Day? Because when I-_"

"Oh! You know, I think you're right, maybe we can go earlier. Then again, I don't think we should let coffee and sweets take the place of our lunch."

"_How about this? We'll go out for coffee around eleven-thirty or something, we'll grab something to eat - Taco Shell, maybe? - and then we'll go eat by the lake around one."_

"Yeah, that sounds great!" Phil agreed.

"_Alright then, it's a date. W-wait, no, I-I-I mean - Pat, stop laughing! - ugh, you know what I meant._"

"Y-yeah," Phil replied.

"_So, uh, what cafe am I looking for, exactly?_"

"Uh, I-I've heard good stuff from Sabrina about a place called The Wizard's Brew, actually..." **(2)**

"_Sounds interesting. Where exactly am I heading?_"

"Oh, uh, lemme think... uh, I can't recall the name of the road, but it's actually north of the Picnix you work at, actually..." Phil continued to relay the directions to Jeremy as best as he could, and if he could have seen him on the other line, he would have seen how diligently Jeremy took notes from the info he was given. "... and you just turn right, and you're there!"

"_Okay, but... I do want to make a suggestion."_

"Yeah, anything!"

"_I have a fair idea of where your apartment complex is, based on the addresses and phone numbers we exchanged... would it be okay if I just picked you up rather than having you drive out to meet me? It would be more efficient to use one car instead of two, in my opinion._"

"Yeah, you have a point. So, uh, come pick me up at about eleven-fifteen, and that should give us time to get to The Wizard's Brew by eleven-thirty. I wonder why Sabrina likes the place so much?"

"_Who knows?_"

"Oh well. I-I'll see you tomorrow then, okay?"

"_I will. Good night, Phil."_

"Good night, Jeremy."

With that, Phil hung up the phone and poured a fresh cup of coffee, adding the sweetener and creamer as he always did, before taking a seat at the kitchen table and turning to a fresh page in the notebook he used for his project. He blew on his coffee a little bit before taking a sip.

How odd... it seemed warmer and sweeter than usual.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 8, 1987_

Bookbag slung over his shoulder, dressed in a blue and white baseball shirt and denim jeans, Phil stood out on the corner of his apartment, eagerly awaiting Jeremy to drive by and pick him up. According to his watch, it was about 11:13 am, meaning he should be there at any moment.

Sure enough, just as he looked up, that familiar cream-colored Ford Escort pulled up to the corner before slowing to a stop. Phil smiled, running up to the car and opening the passenger door.

"Hello, hello!"

"Hey, you. Come on in," he patted the seat next to his. "Let's go find that wizard place."

Phil slipped the bookbag off his shoulders as he slid into the carseat, placing the bag at his feet. He reached over and buckled his seatbelt as Jeremy started driving again.

"Well, I'm pleased to announce that my advertising project is done!" Phil declared, as Jeremy started to pull out of the complex.

"Very nice!" Jeremy congratulated, quickly throwing a smile in Phil's direction before turning his attention back to the road. "... how'd you sleep?"

"Uh, good enough..." Phil replied quickly, turning his head.

"I already saw them," Jeremy replied coolly, pointing underneath his own eyes, in regards to the dark circles that had formed under Phil's eyes over the course of several days. "... I know we're going to get coffee, but maybe you should order something decaf. Or not as strong. That way, you can get plenty of sleep tonight."

"Yeah, I know you're right," Phil admitted. "Six hours of sleep isn't a 'much-needed rest', to be honest."

"Sure isn't. I mean, yeah, you can pull the occasional all-nighter - I certainly have - but you shouldn't be trying to pull them off on consecutive nights. I turn right here, correct?"

"Correct. And yeah, I definitely agree. No more consecutive nights of bad sleep for me. Ever. Again. Bleh."

Jeremy chuckled, driving further down the road, until Phil pointed out the spot where he had to turn right. It wasn't a very big parking lot, considering it was such a small building. But it certainly did have character - the wooden sign out in the lot was cut and painted to look like a pointed navy blue hat adorned with stars that spelled out "The Wizard's Brew", even though time and weather had apparently caused the sign to fade a little.

"Well then," Jeremy parked his car and removed the keys. "Let's see what's on the menu, shall we?"

Phil smiled and nodded, grabbing his bookbag, and both of them left the Escort. They stepped up onto the wooden porch and Jeremy opened the door, tiny bells jingling against its window, as they entered the building, the wooden floor creaking beneath their feet.

It appeared to not just be a cafe, but also a bookstore, as every wall was lined with bookshelves. And a very unique bookstore at that; the sections weren't divided by 'Romance' or 'Non-fiction'; they were divided into groups like 'Astrology', 'Zen', and other spiritual stuff that neither of the young men recognized. Between every other bookshelf along the wall on the right, however, were tall windows that let in plenty of sunlight to allow for natural lighting. The aroma of coffee and tea filled the air, as did another scent that neither of them were familiar with. They exchanged a look, following their noses to a small table in the corner of the room with a small stand to hold a lit incense stick. The box that the stick had come from was still there, with the fragrance written on it.

"'Sex on the Beach'," Phil read aloud, trying to stifle a laugh. "I... uh... kind of doubt that's what it smells like."

"_Definitely_ not," Jeremy confirmed, managing to laugh despite the fact that his face had turned slightly red.

They both overheard the soft rumble of thunder, and turned to check out the window - it was still bright and sunny outside. Now it was time to 'follow their ears' - this time to a cassette player in the center of the room, with various cassettes around it for sale. It appeared they were currently listening to "Falling Water - Rain and Waterfalls".

"Aptly named," Jeremy noted sarcastically, Phil stifling a chuckle with his hand.

"Although... I guess in all honesty, this place is pretty... quaint," Jeremy commented, looking up at the ceiling. Some paper stars hung from strings pinned here and there, the ceiling itself painted in shades of violet and blue to mirror the night sky, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars - likely stickers - mapping out the constellations.

"It does have its charms," Phil agreed.

They meandered around the store until heading into the room next door - the part of the building that was actually the cafe. Here, there were no bookshelves - although the walls were painted in lively shades of purple and the ceiling still had the same "starry sky" motif to it.

The cafe was actually rather empty, probably due to the fact it was the middle of the day on a Tuesday. The barista was already eager to serve them at the counter, the menu written up in chalk on a blackboard behind her.

"So, what sounds good?" Jeremy murmured to Phil, standing beside him.

"More like what _looks_ good," he remarked, looking over at a glass case displaying samples of the desserts they offered. "Eating dessert before lunch... I love it, haha!"

Jeremy surveyed the case as well, not really keen on the idea of eating something fruity like strawberry shortcake with his coffee.

"So, what do you think we should order to eat?" Jeremy inquired, as Phil stood up a little straighter.

"I was thinking the cinnamon crumb coffee cake. I mean, it's called coffee cake for a reason, so it probably goes good with it."

"I like the sound of that. Do you know what you're going to drink?"

"Yeah! I'm ready to order if you are," Phil stated, starting to reach into his pocket for his wallet.

"What can I get for you today?" the barista offered.

"I'm going to have a vanilla latte, please," Jeremy requested.

"And I'm going to have... uh... a mocaccino," Phil added. "Oh, and we'd also like one of those, uh, coffee cakes, please."

"Okay, that'll be four seventy-seven."

Phil handed over a five and two quarters, telling the barista to 'keep the change'.

"All right, I'll have everything ready in a few minutes, if you'd like to grab a seat."

"Oh, great!" Phil looked up at Jeremy. "C'mon, let's grab a table with good lighting... oh, like that one!"

He pointed to a circular table that seated two people, large enough for his books, situated by one of those tall windows.

"Yeah, that should be good."

Phil took a seat in one of the metal chairs, the cushion squishing underneath him.

"I still can't thank you enough for helping me out with this, Jeremy," Phil commented, as Jeremy took a seat across from him. "We're currently covering microbiology, and there's... a lot to remember. A-and my lecture notes on Friday weren't exactly the best, so... I might need a lot of help with that stuff, something about cell metabolism and parts and... stuff."

"Micro wasn't my favorite area either... I applaud the people who get into and study that stuff though. I'm among the many who find the bigger organisms preferable."

"Yeah, me too!" Phil agreed, swinging his bookbag onto his lap. Jeremy appeared amazed, and then lowered his brows, confused. "... Uh, what's up?"

"You're swinging around your bookbag like it doesn't weigh a thing," Jeremy observed.

"Oh, yeah, it does seem lighter than u-" Phil froze, looking up at Jeremy in horror. "Oh no..."

"What?" Jeremy asked, as Phil zipped open his bag, continuing to repeat 'no' over and over again.

He rummaged around and threw a single notebook onto the table - the words "BIO LAB" written on the front.

"I thought I was packing my bag for _Tuesday_," Phil groaned, putting his bookbag back on the floor beside his chair. "I'm so _stupid_!"

"Phil, it's just a little mistake- "

"Why do I ruin _everything?!_" he slouched over in defeat, burying his face in his arms on the table.

"You didn't ruin anything, it's fine, I don't..." Jeremy tried to reassure, but Phil still wouldn't look up at him. "... Phil?"

"_I-I can't do it,_" he whispered, his voice wavering and threatening to crack.

"Phil..." Jeremy sighed, scooting his chair around the table to sit closer to him. "College is stressful. A full-time job is stressful. Trying to do both at the same time, especially without any sleep... would bring _anyone_ down."

"... 'm sorry... trying so hard not to..." Phil mumbled, curling up even tighter.

"If you're not feeling well, we can go. It's okay," Jeremy gently patted his shoulder. "Would you like to leave?"

Phil didn't say anything, but he appeared to nod despite keeping his head down.

"Is he okay?" whispered the barista, bringing over their coffee and cake.

"Um..." Jeremy looked down at Phil. "... Could we make this a to-go order?"

The barista silently nodded and headed back behind the counter.

"It wasn't my best area, but I remember some things about cells... maybe I can quiz you in the car. Would you like that?"

Phil nodded again, as the barista dropped off a small box for the cake and their drinks in reinforced paper cups.

"Thank you," Jeremy whispered, slipping the barista another dollar, before he collected their items.

Phil quietly collected his bookbag, keeping his eyes down, and left with Jeremy - who willingly hurried alongside him back to the car.

"All right, there you go... I think the barista wrote the 'm' for 'mocha' on yours," Jeremy commented, placing one of the drinks in a cup holder, as Phil sat down and buckled his seatbelt. "So, what would you like to do? Do you want me to take you home? Or would you like to visit the park?"

"Park..." Phil replied, his voice dry and his eyes red.

"All right," Jeremy replied calmly, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car. "Would you still like us to stop at Taco Shell?"

"Yeah," Phil replied, looking out the window.

"Music?"

"No thanks."

Jeremy continued driving in silence for a little while until they came to a stoplight.

"Hey, that gives me an idea. Can you tell me the two parts unique to plant cells that animal cells don't have?"

"Umm..." Phil squeezed his eyes shut tight, as though it would help him somehow. "... chlorophyll...?"

"Chloro_plasts_. And one more. Can you figure it out before the light changes?"

"Uh... riboflavin - no, those are ribosomes, and that's not even right. Uh... _uh_..." he looked over at Jeremy, who patted a free hand against the car door. "... some kind of entry-portal?"

"No... oh," Jeremy hit the gas as the light turned green.

"I failed," Phil mumbled in disappointment.

"No, there's no grades in this... and your exam is... uh... when is it?"

"Not until the thirtieth."

"So you have plenty of time. Plant cells are unique in that they have chloroplasts and a cell wall. Their vacuoles are also significantly larger than animal cells, so that might be something to keep in mind. And now you'll never forget it."

"Yeah."

"Okay, an easy one. What is the outermost covering of a cell?"

"The cell membrane."

"Right, good job. What is the function of the mitochondria?"

"Um... that one processes energy, I think?"

"Right again. It's basically the powerhouse of the cell. Speaking of which..." Jeremy hit his turn signal, and Phil noticed the Taco Shell on the right. "... I think it's time we grab lunch. Do you know what you wanna order?"

"Probably just... uh... two soft tacos," he reached over and took his coffee, drinking it as Jeremy pulled up to the drive-thru to place their orders.

"... I do have one rule about my car..." Jeremy stated, as they pulled out of the Taco Shell with their food. "I don't really want people eating in it. Drinking is okay, since usually it's water or soda... and these carpets are pretty dark, so nobody would notice a coffee stain. But food isn't contained in a cup, bottle, or can... it's usually out in the open, waiting to be spilled, and it tends to leave a much stronger odor. Last year, someone dropped their groceries outside their apartment and wound up breaking a bottle of Worcestershire sauce all over the concrete steps. The complex took their sweet time in hiring someone to clean it up, so I had to put up with the smell of... whatever is in that stuff, it smelled like dead fish... for a few weeks." **(3)**

"Ugh, that sounds awful..." Phil agreed, wrinkling his nose.

"Besides, it'll be much nicer to eat out by the lake, you know?"

Phil nodded, though he stopped suddenly.

"You bought the food," he realized.

Jeremy glanced over at him in concern quickly, before looking back at the road.

"It's all right... I mean, it's fast food, it only cost me a couple of dollars."

"I-I know, but... I was supposed to be treating _you_ today."

"I assure you, it's fine," Jeremy repeated.

Phil looked down at the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling his cup around gently, watching the liquid whirl inside.

"Ah, here we go!" Jeremy exclaimed. Phil looked up just in time to see the sign as the car turned to enter the park.

Phil looked out the window, lush oak and elm trees seeming to make up most of the population of the forested area, a few of them with leaves starting to yellow.

"I wonder what kinds of animals live here?" Jeremy wondered, as they drove further in.

"... Probably not bears," Phil joked, starting to feel better. Jeremy noticed as well, smiling over at him.

"Wow, would you look at that!" Jeremy marveled, as the trees started to clear up. The lake was in full view, and it was enormous, another car on the opposite side visible as a tiny red dot.

Jeremy turned left, so that Phil would have a full view of the lake from his window, blue and green where it reflected the sky and surrounding trees.

"Picnic area, two hundred feet," Jeremy read aloud, looking over at Phil briefly. "Sounds like our - _whoa!_"

He slammed the brakes as a squirrel darted across the road, Phil jerking forward against his seatbelt. Momentum was not so kind to his grip, however, and his cup of coffee slipped out of his grasp, spilling all over the floor.

"_Shit!_"

"Are you okay?!" Jeremy asked. He had never heard Phil curse so openly before.

"Th-the coffee..."

"I think there's some napkins in the Taco Shell bag. I'll just clean this up before we eat," Jeremy stated, as he pulled up to the picnic area.

It was about as bare bones as could be - a picnic table on a small area of pavement and a trash can nearby, as well as signs reminding guests of three basic rules - don't litter, don't start fires, and don't swim. Jeremy parked and quickly climbed out of his seat, heading over to the passenger side. Phil had already unfastened his seatbelt, bending over awkwardly in his seat to try to mop up the coffee.

"It's alright, I've got it," Jeremy stated, beckoning for him to climb out of the car. "The food didn't get wet, so that's good. Just put the stuff on the picnic table, I'll be there in a second."

After Phil had left the car, Jeremy immediately got to his knees, examining the damage.

"Oh, most of it was on the mat," Jeremy observed, removing it from the car. "That's good. I can probably wash this off with... a hose or something."

He wiped up the extra coffee as best as he could, though there wasn't too much on the actual floor.

"There we go! That wasn't so bad, although the coffee was still kinda hot," Jeremy commented, turning around. "Speaking of which, you didn't burn yourself, did y-"

Phil had his back turned to him, shoulders curled down and in, clutching his arms close to his body. But it was the soft sob he tried to choke back that caught Jeremy's attention.

"Phil? Hey..."

Jeremy tossed the mat aside, walking up to him.

"It's okay, I'm not mad at you!" his tone was light as he tried to reassure him.

"I-I just... f-fucked everything up again. My uncle was right, it's r-ridiculuous!" Phil's voice trembled as he pulled his arms tighter against himself.

"Your uncle? Frank's causing trouble _again_?! Doesn't he realize you're trying to balance a college education at the same time as your job?" Jeremy shook his head. "And for goodness sake, you've gone, what, FOUR nights without a good night's sleep?! You have every right to feel this way, don't let him tell you otherwise!"

He circled around in front of him, gently placing his hands on Phil's shaking shoulders.

"Just let it out."

Phil looked up at him, his lips curling in and trembling, as tears started pouring out of his eyes.

"It's okay to feel upset... but don't ever think you deserve it, okay?" Jeremy gently patted his shoulder again.

Jeremy let out a small grunt, staggering back a step, as Phil threw his arms around him and started crying against his shoulder.

"It's gonna be all right," Jeremy reassured softly, wrapping his arms around him tenderly. "It's finally all over."

The red car from before drove past, and for a moment, Jeremy was scared of being seen like this, with another man in his arms... but fuck them. There were more important things than being scared right now, he decided, gently rubbing his hand in a circle on Phil's back.

They stood there for a few more 'moments' - seconds, minutes, who could say? - before Phil finally lifted his face, his eyes red but now dry.

"I-I'm good," he confirmed quietly, looking up into Jeremy's eyes.

"Yeah?" Jeremy asked softly, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

"Yeah, I'll be o- ... oh," Phil looked over at the bag situated on the picnic table. "... Our food probably isn't hot anymore."

"Oh well, we're college students, we eat what we can," Jeremy teased. "Lukewarm Mexican fast food and coffee cake included."

Phil smiled up at Jeremy, before they both took a seat at the table, quietly scarfing down their food - too hungry to remember to talk, it seemed, and Taco Shell was surprisingly pretty good for a fast food place. The coffee cake was exquisite as well, the cake itself soft while the cinnamon and brown sugar crumbles on top had a fine granulated texture to them. As they gathered up their trash, Phil looked down and spotted a few ants surrounding a crumb of coffee cake.

"They're eating. It's part of what makes them alive," he commented, as Jeremy tossed out a few wadded papers. "As does reproduction, regulation, growth, responding to the environment, being made of cells, aaaand... homeostasis."

"Nicely done," Jeremy complimented.

"There was a pop quiz," Phil explained, as he threw out his share of trash and walked with Jeremy back to the car. "For a little bit of extra credit. And I aced it, a-all because of you."

"Nah, you worked hard and earned that grade. And just wait, when the exam comes around, you're going to do great on that as well."

They got in the car, and Jeremy quickly chugged down the last of his coffee.

"... Why would you do that?" Phil asked. "I-I mean, isn't it gross by now?"

"I can confirm room temperature coffee is gross," Jeremy agreed, his nose wrinkled and his lips pulled to the side in a disgusted sneer. "But again, we're college students, we gotta eat and drink what we can get."

"Oh, speaking of coffee!" Phil unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car as Jeremy started up the engine. He returned quickly, with the slightly stained mat in his hand. "... You, uh, might not want to forget this."

"I sure wouldn't," Jeremy agreed. "Let me pop the trunk, just throw it back there."

He pulled the small lever near the wheel, hearing the familiar _thunk_, and Phil headed to the back of the car. He heard another _thunk_, Phil closing the trunk, before climbed back into the passenger seat.

"All right," Jeremy commented. "Where to next?"

"Oh... hmm..." Phil thought it over as Jeremy started to pull away from the picnic area. "Well, I... I don't want to head home _just_ yet. Maybe we can drive a lap around the lake and chat?"

"That sounds nice," Jeremy agreed, turning out of the parking space so that the passenger window had the same great view of the lake. "... So, I think you said you've been to Japan?"

"Oh, yeah, i-it was beautiful," Phil said, looking over at Jeremy. "The only problem was the, uh, time difference... Japan is nearly half a day ahead of America, no matter what time zone you're in. So, heh, guess who was dealing with funky sleep patterns back in the day, too? But, let's see... what were some of the things I saw..."

Phil went on and on about his trip to Japan, Jeremy content to drive circles around the lake as he talked.

"... so, yeah, go figure I would like foxes so much," Phil finished up his story, before looking out the window. "Have we been... here all this time?"

"I just wanted to wait until you finished your story," Jeremy confessed. "Sorry about that. But the exit's right here, I'll take you back now."

"Oh, I don't mind. Yeah, we can head back," Phil said, leaning back in the car seat a little. He gazed out the window, as the trees started to appear in greater numbers. "... Hey, Jeremy?"

"What's up?"

"Uh... why'd you go through all this trouble for me?"

He looked over at Phil briefly, before looking back at the road as they exited the park. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he relaxed it a second later.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd do anything to help our other friends out, but..." the grin on Jeremy's face was so childish it almost seemed fake. "I-I've always kind of felt like there was something special between _us_, you know? Um, wait, I don't mean-"

His grin disappeared as he slapped his forehead with a hand, before placing it back on the wheel.

"What I mean is, among the four of you guys..." he seemed to concentrate even harder on the road, even though there weren't many cars around. "... you're probably the one I would call my best friend."

"Oh!" Phil looked over at him with a delighted smile. "Yeah, I-I completely understand! We've always had a special friendship, haven't we?"

"Yeah," Jeremy replied in a low voice, his eyes still on the road.

"... What?"

"Nothing," Jeremy shook his head, and looked back over at Phil. "I think we're getting close to your apartment. You wanna teach me a little more Italian?"

"Sure, I can do that... um... let me think..." Phil smiled as an idea came to him. "Oh, how about this, it's perfect! The Italian word for friend is _amico_ when you refer to a guy, and _amica_ when you refer to a girl."

"All right, _amico_, now how do you say 'good night'?"

"That's _buona notte_, but you use it when someone's going to bed."

"I see," Jeremy remarked, but smiled. "... I wonder if this is how Ronaldo feels, learning so much English? Well... except he's learning lots of words over the course of a few days, and working with grammar and verbs... he's a pretty smart guy."

"I know, you can really tell how much he's improved, even after only a month!"

Jeremy nodded in agreement, as they pulled back into the apartment complex.

"So, what are you gonna do when you get back inside?"

Phil shook his head and chuckled.

"Take. A. Nap."

"Good answer," Jeremy replied, pulling up to the corner Phil had been waiting at earlier in the day. "_Buona notte_, okay? Sleep as long as you need. See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy," Phil answered, stepping out of the car.

He watched Jeremy drive off with one final wave, before heading back to his apartment. The coffee hadn't been as strong as he expected... and the full stomach was making him kind of sleepy... plus the car ride had been pretty relaxing...

Yeah, a nap would be pretty nice.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 9, 1987_

A nap for almost the entire afternoon - he had been too hungry to go back to sleep, so he had just eaten cold leftovers from the fridge for a quick dinner before crawling back under the covers - and a full night of rest later, Phil was finally back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza after his classes had ended for the day.

"Hey, Phil... uh..."

He turned around in the hall, surprised by the voice.

"... you seem like you're feeling better... that's good."

Phil smiled.

"Thanks, George... I-I'm feeling a lot better than I did Monday, that's for sure."

George nodded and went on his way, heading back the game room. Phil, meanwhile, headed towards the Parts and Service room to see if Loxy and Foxanne were being repaired. Sure enough, Heather was hard at work, her hand twisting one of Loxy's eyes back into its socket. Jeremy was right - it was a good thing she wasn't a surgeon.

Phil chuckled at the thought, and Heather turned around, startled.

"Phil! Hey," she got to her feet, dusting off her uniform. "Just arrive?"

"Yes."

"Feeling better?"

"YES."

"Cool. All right, I'll go do a quick walkthrough of the building, and go see what's up," she stated, starting to walk past.

"H-hey, um... is Anita here today?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, but... she's still not in the best mood. You might wanna wait to sort things out on a later date."

"I suppose..." Phil sighed.

"Everything gets better with time, man," Heather assured.

He walked around the building with her, checking things out, until they had made a full lap over the course of twenty minutes. Considering it was roughly two in the afternoon, there still weren't many kids to watch, so Phil relented and spent some time with Heather on her break as well. As did Ronaldo and Sophia.

"The ice cream parlor turned out to be a disappointment," Sophia sighed, shaking her head. "Their soft serve machine was out of order, and they said it was apparently the second time this month that it's happened! It's only the ninth day of September, you know!"

"Not a fun date," Ronaldo added with a frown.

"Oh! Um, if you guys want something sweet on your next date, I know a place you can try!" Phil piped up. "It's called The Wizard's Brew. Jeremy and I actually visited it yesterday!"

"The Wizard's Brew... certainly sounds like a fun place for a date," Sophia commented.

"Y-Yeah, so, uh, _you_ and _Ronaldo_ can go, uh, on a-a _date _there..." Phil replied, tucking his hand and arm into his pockets.

"So, you and Jeremy spent some time together yesterday? That sounds lovely!" Sophia continued. "How did you spend the day?"

"Oh... well... i-it wasn't like amazing or anything," Phil tried to dismiss. "I-I mean, it was still nice, but all we did was go to The Wizard's Brew and then w-we ate lunch by the lake. I-It was just supposed to be one of our study dates."

"'Supposed to'?" Heather repeated.

"Well... uh... I kind of forgot my books, thanks to a lack of, uh, sleep over the course of four nights," Phil explained. "So we didn't really spend a-a lot of, uh, time studying. We just talked about stuff for a few hours, a-and then Jeremy took me home."

"I am confused," Ronaldo stated. "You said it was a 'study date'. But you did not study. Does that make it a da-"

"No!" Phil quickly insisted. "N-no, no. I-it's different. That was _not_ a date. The two of us just, uh, hung out together."

"_Uh-huh_."

Oh, great, Heather sounded one hundred percent convinced.

"I-it's true!" Phil stammered, his cheeks turning red.

"So, if you weren't studying, how did you spend your time together?"

"Heather..."

"_Hmmm...?_"

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"I-I wasn't feeling well at the cafe, so Jeremy took me out to lunch, and then we ate over in, uh, Lakeview Park. A-And there was talking. For example, uh, I-I told him about my trip to Japan. L-look, I'm the assistant manager of this facility, I can't spend too much time idling around," Phil stood up suddenly. "I'm going to go, uh, keep an eye on things. For a while."

He quickly stormed out of the employee lounge.

"What's with him?" Sophia asked.

Heather and Ronaldo exchanged a look.

"It's private," Heather stated. "I'm sure Phil will explain it to you when he's ready."

"Wait, you both know?" she asked, looking over at Ronaldo.

"... It is a secret. I cannot and will not say it," he shook his head. "To be... safe, I think that is the word."

"Oh..." Sophia's expression turned serious. "... very well. If it's that important, I'll let it be."

"You're a good girl, Soph," Heather praised with a wink. "Come to think of it... I was kind of pressuring him too... an asshole move on my part. I'll leave him alone for the rest of the day."

The hours passed, kids coming and kids going, until finally Freddy Fazbear's Pizza had closed for the night. Phil had just finished mopping around the Prize Corner when the phone rang, much to his surprise.

"They... know we're closed, right?" Janet asked, looking over at him.

He shrugged and picked up the phone, resting it against his right shoulder.

"Hello, hello, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, this is Phil speaking."

"_Phil! Hey, it's Frank._"

"Un... I mean, sir... why are you calling so late?"

"_Well, I had the day off... so, naturally, a smart guy like me does some thinking..._"

"Uh-huh?"

"_And I got to thinking... maybe I was a little too hard on you the other day... so I'd like to apologize for that._"

Phil smiled a little, toying with the phone's cord in his fingers.

"Oh, i-it's okay..."

"_... That being said, there's an important matter I'd like to discuss with you._"

Phil's fingers ceased to move.

"... important?"

"_Yeah. I don't think school and your job are the only things weighing you down._"

"I-I don't know what you're, uh, talking about..."

"_No, Phillip, I'm pretty sure you do."_

He swallowed hard.

"_Listen, your day off is tomorrow, right? Have you made any plans with your friends?_"

"N-no..."

"_Good. I'd like to have a little conversation with you, man-to-man. And to help make it up to you for Monday and all that jazz, I'm going to treat you to dinner. You remember where my house is, right? My brother might be a far better cook than me, but a nice home-cooked meal is sure to be a nice change from that microwaved stuff you probably eat everyday, right?_"

"I-I guess that sounds pretty nice..."

"_You bet it does. I'll be getting out of work early tomorrow, right around five, so come meet me for dinner at six, okay?_"

"Um..."

"_Okay, Phillip?_"

"Uh, y-yes, sir! I-I'll be there."

"_Great, see you tomorrow!_"

"Okay, see y-" Phil was cut off by the sound of the phone hanging up on the other end.

He hung up the pizzeria's phone with a heavy sigh, resting his forehead in his palm.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 10, 1987_

Frank's house might have been small, but it was certainly cozy once you got past the metal fence and latticed gate surrounding the actual house. The exterior walls were painted white, one side of the house accented with ivy that crept all the way up to the roof. Ornamental plants grew along the small path from the gate to the doorstep, where Phil stepped up to ring the doorbell.

"Phillip! Good to see you, come on in!" Frank exclaimed, opening the door.

"Thank you, Uncle..." he replied meekly, stepping inside.

The hallway was lined with picture frames, photographs of the Fazari family. Phil stopped in the hall to admire one photo in particular - its color was fading as a result of the times, but it was a photo of his father, roughly twenty years younger and sitting in a chair in a hospital room, his eyes shining and his smile bright as he cradled a tiny bundle in his arms.

"Well, come on!" Phil jumped at the sound of his uncle's voice. "You gonna stand around in the hall all evening, or are you gonna have some dinner?"

"Sorry, I-I'm coming," he replied, heading into the dining room.

The square wooden table had a dark maroon tablecloth laid over it, with silverware already set at opposite ends of the table.

"Come into the kitchen and fill your plate," Frank instructed, nodding in that direction.

Sure enough, on the stovetop, there were two pots - one with freshly drained spaghetti, the other with the actual tomato sauce, loaded with mushrooms and meatballs. He might not have been a good cook, but that did not mean his uncle had bad taste, as it seemed he had picked out a very nice pasta sauce from the store. Phil picked up his ceramic plate from the counter and loaded it with noodles and sauce, a large and delectable meatball seated at the top of his plate like a cherry on a sundae. He returned to the table, taking a seat across from his uncle. Shortly after saying grace, his uncle's smile disappeared dramatically.

"Now then, Phillip, it's time to talk business," he stated darkly.

"B-business...?" he asked, shrinking down in his seat.

"A good manager has to keep a close eye on his employees... remember how I found that cigarette butt in one of the party rooms a few weeks ago, and sure enough, Daisy caught Irene having a smoke in the ladies' room?"

"I-I don't smoke, Uncle."

"I know you don't. This is about something completely different," he stated, reaching into his pocket. Phil swallowed hard as he held up a paper receipt and read it aloud. "Picnix. Roast beef sub and a coke."

"I... well, you know how it is!" Phil tried to laugh nonchalantly. "Y-you just get bored with the same old pizza and, uh, crave something different from time-to-time, you know? I-I mean, you don't eat the pizza that often either."

Frank continued to give him that ominous glare, placing the receipt between them on the table, before reaching back into his pocket.

"Picnix, chicken tender sub. Picnix, coffee and some other stuff. Picnix, turkey sub..." he continued listing off the stuff he had purchased, placing the receipts between them on the table. "I started wondering, what's the big deal about Picnix anyway?"

Phil remained silent, staring at the line of receipts in front of him. _Oh, God._ He hadn't noticed it before, but at the bottom, of the receipts were the words 'Your cashier today was'... and almost all of them were followed by 'JEREMY'. Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy.

"So I took a look around after work on Tuesday," Frank shook his head. "That's where I bought all of tonight's supplies, after all. And you thought you could hide it from me."

"U-U-Uncle, please, j-just hear me out, we're f-friends, I-I just wanted to see-"

Frank had been putting on an act, it seemed, as he grinned devilishly at Phil and interrupted him.

"There's a _GIRL _involved, isn't there!" he teased with a wink.

"O-oh! Uh... uh, y-yeah," Phil sat up a little taller, only to recline against the back of his chair.

"So, which one is it? That Shelby girl in the deli? Alexa, one of the cashiers?"

"I... uh... I-I never really got a chance to see, uh, her nametag..." Phil fibbed quickly, twirling some spaghetti with his fork.

"Oh, good point, we should eat before this stuff gets cold. Hold on a sec," Frank got up from the table, heading back into the kitchen, returning with two wine glasses in his hands and a bottle and corkscrew tucked under his arm.

"Uncle... really?" Phil asked in surprise.

"Sure, why not?" Frank said, placing one of the glasses in front of Phil. "After all, chianti classico goes great with spaghetti."

He twisted the cork out and poured the wine into Phil's glass and then his own, a luxuriously dark shade of ruby red.

"Well then," Frank placed the bottle on the table and took his seat, lifting his glass. "Here's to young love, am I right?"

"I... uh... right," Phil agreed, taking his glass and gently tapping it to his uncle's.

Usually, he didn't care for red wine, but he found the chianti's flavor to be rather pleasant, comparable to cherries with a light floral fragrance.

"Well, like I said, I did see some girls working around Picnix on Tuesday... maybe I can figure out who your little crush is!" Frank teased, taking a sip of wine. "What's she look like, huh?"

"Oh... um..." Phil stared down at his glass, his mind going blank.

"That beautiful, huh? Come on, you gotta give your uncle a hint!"

"O-okay, um... _h-her_ eyes... the _girl_, I-I mean... are... uh... th-the richest chocolate color imagineable..." his voice softened as he spoke, still keeping his gaze down. Phil only knew one person with 'chocolate-colored eyes'.

"Aww, that's no fair. I can't get that close to the ladies... it'd be too creepy, you know?" Frank grinned, twirling up some spaghetti on his fork. "But _you_, wow, you're already at the 'gaze-lovingly-into-each-others'-eyes phase."

He shoved the bite of pasta into his mouth with a satisfied 'mmhmm', Phil quick to shovel some food into his mouth as well. Maybe, if he was lucky, constantly having a mouthful of food would deter his uncle from asking too many questions.

"So, how'd - how'd you two meet?" Frank asked, pausing to cough after not completely swallowing the previous bite of food.

"Oh, uh... well..." Phil pushed a meatball around on his plate with his fork, remembering how he had simply waved Jeremy over because their table had a place where he could sit. "S-sometimes things just happen, and then you start talking and stuff. You know?"

"I _do_ know," Frank nodded heartily, taking a long drink from his wine glass, before gazing over Phil's shoulder down the hallway. "... Did you ever hear the story about how your mother and father met?"

Phil chewed on a mushroom contemplatively. After twenty-one years, he still hadn't heard the story of how his parents met - he had never thought to ask, especially since romance and dating had been touchy subjects for him as a teenager, and his father had gradually become more preoccupied with running a business. He swallowed.

"I... no, I've never asked them how they met," Phil admitted.

"Aaaaall right, it's story time for you, then!" Frank stated with a grin, pouring a little more wine into his glass.

"Okay, so, about twenty-four years ago, they were starting to open up air travel to Asia again. So I've been out of college - graduated - for a few years at this point, when your father says to me 'Frank, we're still young, and we still haven't seen the world. You wanna go on a trip this summer?' So I say, 'Sure, 'Rico, where are we going?' And I'm thinking we're probably going to check out the best beaches in Florida, or we're going to see Mt. Rushmore, but no, your father makes sure we get passports and he gets us pretty cheap tickets to _Japan_."

Frank took a few more bites of spaghetti, washing it down with a few sips of chianti, then continued.

"Now, this was just some pretty spur-of-the-moment trip thing your papa decided on, since he wasn't a big CEO at this point. So we're pretty much staying for about a week in Kyoto in this cheap little hostel room - we're grown men sharing a bunkbed - and eating nothing but rice since it's the most affordable thing around. So one night we're bored, and your dad decides that 'hey, why don't we go see if there's anyone who wants to chat in the lobby', even though I'm telling him 'Rico, you don't know any Japanese', and he insists that he wants to at least try. So we go out to the lobby, and there's no guests around because it's evening and everyone's eating dinner in their rooms..."

Frank smiled and nodded.

"... except for one young Japanese lady, also in her twenties, over by the phones they use to make international calls. And it's a good thing she's not paying attention to us, because your father just stands there staring at her, completely stupefied."

"... My mother?"

Frank nodded.

"And he hears her talking on the phone, what we can only presume is Japanese, and the only thing he picks up on is _moshimoshi_. So he's finally snapped out of it and he just says to me, 'Franco, I've gotta meet her, I've gotta say hello'. But like I said, he doesn't know a lick of Japanese. So he waits for her phone call to end, and just walks right up to her and says 'Moshi'!"

Phil chuckled.

"And she just stares at him a moment, and he asks, 'That's how you say 'hi', right? I heard you say _moshimoshi_, like 'hello, hello' on the phone, like your own little greeting, so you seemed like a friendly person and I wanted to say hi' and then Federico starts panicking because he realizes 'wait, I'm saying all of this to a Japanese girl, you have no clue what I'm saying and I probably sound ridiculous'... but she smiles and says, 'It's okay, I can speak English too, I understand completely'. So, yeah, it turns out that she can speak English just fine. And he explains that he and I are bored, and we just wanna chat, so they talk for a while, and she introduces herself as Yoko Tanaka, and she writes down a list of Japanese for him to use while he's visiting the country, so he knows how to ask where the bathrooms are and how much stuff costs, and she makes it a little joke to say 'hello, hello' to him every time they see each other in the hostel, and he always answers her with 'hello, hello', and now you know where your little family greeting comes from."

"Oh!" Phil took a sip of wine. "How about that."

"How indeed. Now... I didn't really see too much of them that week, but let me tell you, your father... just blew her mind - not in that sense, he waited until marriage - "

Phil blushed and shook his head.

"... Right, too much information. Okay, but... in that one week, he somehow managed to get her a job offer in the States at the same company as him, and gave her his contact information... and the next thing you know, Yoko Tanaka is an American citizen and she's dating my brother, and by the next year they're married."

"... Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

"How did my dad do it?"

"He always told me that 'it wasn't _just_ him, it was also her'. There was no defining gift or smooth talk that told her that he was the one, he just... gave her everything he could, and that included his heart. And she did the same thing too. Now, I thought it was crazy, I mean, they literally got to know each other in a week, and all of a sudden she's willing to come all the way to America to be with him. I even asked him, 'aren't you afraid there's some kind of scandal with her? That things are moving too fast?' And Federico just shook his head and smiled and said 'no'. And, admittedly being the smarter brother, I just asked to make sure, and he insisted he didn't have to, he knew that he loved her and she loved him. And how was he so sure? Because, he said, if you're ever scared of giving your heart to someone... there is no love there. At least, not at the moment, or something like that. To trust someone so fully, to have no fear of them hurting you... _that_ is how you know the love is real."

Frank shrugged.

"... Maybe that's why I couldn't get either of my marriages to stick," Frank's tone turned bitter, and he drank a sip of wine to wash the words off his tongue.

"Uncle..."

"Oh well. They had some difficulties having kids, both before and after you. And even though you had your... birth defect..." Frank looked at the wine glass he held in his right hand. "Your father just kept saying, 'Defects or not, I love my son, my little Phillip'... oh man. I know they say some kids are 'Mama's Boys' or 'Daddy's Little Girl'... but I think you're the only 'Daddy's Boy' I've ever seen, Phil."

Phil shook his head with a wistful smile.

"Wow, I got off track!" Frank laughed, scooping up a few more mouthfuls of spaghetti. "Mmm... right, so, now that you've heard the story... do you love her?"

"Uh..."

Oh great, it was back to awkward interrogations.

"Eh, then again, you're from a different generation. Not to mention you've always been a skittish kid. Love probably doesn't have the same meaning to you kids these days. But, I like to think maybe you got a little bit of your father's heart - and your uncle's brains - " Frank pointed to his head with a wink. "... to pick a winner. Even if she's just a girl at the grocery store. Appearances can be deceiving - she might turn out to be some kind of rocket scientist that rakes in millions!"

"Oh, uh, a scientist... y-yeah..." Phil tugged at the collar of his shirt with a finger, his cheeks starting to turn rosy again.

"You won't know until you ask. You gotta take the plunge, like your father! Man up, Phillip!"

"I-I guess? I-I mean, I don't even know if the _girl_ is single or not..."

"That's why you gotta ask, dummy!" Frank stated, pouring some more wine for himself.

Phil just shrugged quietly, eating a few more bites of spaghetti, noticing the temperature wasn't quite as pleasant as before.

"... But you really got this excited over me being interested in some _girl_?" Phil asked. "Like, a whole dinner?"

"It was really meant to be part of the apology, but there's no harm in being excited about you getting a girlfriend!" Frank laughed, drinking more of the chianti. "And hey, if you think I'm excited - _oh!_ That's a _great _idea!"

"... Wh-what?" Phil asked through a mouthful of food. Somehow, he got the feeling this was not the time for manners.

"We gotta tell your father all about this! Heh, he'll probably be more excited than I am! Just because I got more of the brains of the family, doesn't mean we don't think alike!"

_"He told me that he had seen right through my scheme, and there was no way he'd let some... s-some... s-some 'sick faggot' spread 'its' diseases to children."_

Jeremy's words ran through his head, and Phil nearly swallowed a meatball whole, had he not choked it up.

"Whoa, Phil, you gotta slow down and enjoy the flavor!" Frank scolded him.

"Um... n-no thank you... I-I'm feeling pretty full," Phil said, looking down at his half-empty plate. "I-I have, um, a report due tomorrow a-anyway."

"Oh, you're just antsy... believe me, your father-"

"No!" Phil exclaimed, bolting upright. "N-no... I'll tell him when I'm ready. I-in case things don't work out. A-and I should have the honors of telling him, in case things, uh, _do_ work out... g-good night, uncle!"

"Wait, what about dessert? I bought some cannol - "

"Good night!" Phil called out one more time from the hallway, before Frank heard the door shut.

Phil ran straight for his car, hopping in and starting the engine. He pulled out of the driveway as swiftly as a bank robber after committing their greatest heist.

Jeremy. How ironic, his thoughts always seemed to come back to him and his words.

_"... you wouldn't defend him as much as you do if you didn't love him a lot, so I can only presume the feeling is mutual."_

Those words and that picture of his father and the thought of his voice - _'I love my son, my little Phillip'_...

Impulsively, he cranked up the volume on his car's radio, Lionel Richie bellowing through his speakers and into his eardrums, until he finally felt like all those words and voices had been purged from his mind... although his ears would keep ringing all night long.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 14th, 1987_

Classes were halfway done for the day, and Phil once again didn't have work that night. He had calmed down over the course of the past few days... though he had settled for the pizzeria's pizza for lunch for those same days as well, nor did he make any phone calls. He just wanted an equal amount of space from his father and from Jeremy for a little while.

But the call of the Picnix sub is too strong for any mortal to resist, and Phil decided that since he'd had such a good day in his public relations class - correctly answering a few of the professor's questions for the rest of the lecture hall to hear - that maybe it was time to treat himself a little. And besides, he couldn't stay away from Jeremy or his father forever.

He gave Shelby his usual 'hello, hello', ordered an Italian sub today, and found his favorite cashier... who seemed a little distraught today.

"... Phil! Hey... it feels like I haven't seen you for a while..." Jeremy commented, forcing himself to smile.

"I've just been... busy. Weekend, lots of kids, you know how it is. But, uh, I still managed to get plenty of sleep, so there's no need to worry about that..." Phil's brow furrowed. "... since it seems like you're worried about something already..."

"Rachel."

"Rachel?!" Phil exclaimed. "Wh-what's going on, is she okay...?"

"I... I want to hope she'll be okay. I want her to be happy, and it seems like she is, so far... but..." Jeremy shook his head with a sigh. "It's something so simple, but it's making things complicated."

Phil looked over to see if there was anyone else coming to get in line. Nobody. Picnix was surprisingly empty despite it being lunch time.

"I'll hear you out," he offered.

Jeremy took in another breath of air, looking off in a different direction.

"I got a phone call from Rachel last night. She was super excited," Jeremy recalled. "... it seems she officially has her first boyfriend."

"Oh... and you're worried about it because she's still pretty young? I-I mean, I think you said this is her first year in high school, right?"

"That's part of it, but it's also just... me being a big brother, I guess. I mean, I've never met the guy, how do I know he's going to treat Rachel right? I don't want to be overbearing, but I'm... a little protective about my sister. It's kind of a sibling thing."

"... So she's trusting you with keeping it a secret from your parents?"

Jeremy sighed.

"On the contrary, both of our parents know... and while I can tell they're still trying to be protective of her..." Jeremy frowned. "They're still surprisingly happy about the whole situation. I can only assume that it's because one of their kids turned out to be... normal."

Although his bruises had healed, Jeremy still cast a glance down at the hand he had once injured.

"My parents just tried to ignore it, or write it off as a 'phase' when I told them..." Jeremy explained. "But as the years passed, and I remained the same, they eventually quit caring about my personal life. They still ask about how I'm doing in school, and they make sure that I'm healthy... but they don't care about any friends I've made or if _I'm_ dating anyone. A part of me wants to hold onto the belief that they still love me... I just don't think they love me as much as they used to."

"That's awful!" Phil opined. "They're your family, they're supposed to love you no matter what! I-If you don't have your family... wh-what else is left?"

"I have my friends," Jeremy reassured. "And even so... it's only my parents who don't accept me."

"Rachel..." Phil realized.

"Just another reason why she's so dear to me," Jeremy stated, smiling again. "I once heard someone say that your siblings are the people you should hold dearest in your life... since they are the members of the family who will be with you for life... so I'm thankful I have someone like her."

"Being an only child seems a lot more lonely now," Phil admitted.

"But you _do _have parents who love you. A lot. Especially your dad, if I remember correctly."

Phil smiled weakly and nodded, looking down at his sub.

"Sorry... I guess I started venting and it turned into a big family discussion all because of some dumb boyfriend," Jeremy apologized, scanning the sub. "Your total is three forty-nine."

"Jeremy, do you have a -"

Phil had barely even registered that he had asked the question, cutting himself off before he could finish. He glanced over to see if there was anybody else in line, but there was no one there.

Jeremy appeared upset for a moment, but he looked away. It appeared he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. He cast a quick glance behind him as well, the nearest cashier two registers down.

"... No. I am not in a relationship at the moment."

"Sorry, I-I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories..." Phil apologized, realizing it was probably the same ex Jeremy had hinted at before, as he handed over the exact change. "I-I was just curious, that's a-"

"Wait," Jeremy stopped him, and Phil suddenly grew terrified he was about inquire further. "... Don't you have any new Italian words for me today?"

"Um..." Phil thought for a second. "_Ti am... _no, uh... _ti voglio bene_."

"_Ti voglio bene_," Jeremy repeated. "I recognize the _bene_ in there, is it some sort of well-wishing statement?"

Phil nodded.

"I-It's how you tell someone you love them. You can use it with anyone, but it's better for, uh, family members and friends. The o-other one... _ti amo_... that has more romantic implications."

"So I can tell Rachel '_ti voglio bene'_ the next time we talk on the phone?"

"That is exactly why I-I wanted to teach you those words," Phil confirmed, beaming at him.

"Oh, _grazie,_" Jeremy replied. "Come visit Picnix again. See ya, Phil."

"Bye, Jeremy."

He grabbed his sub and quickly left, not wanting to risk Jeremy asking why he was so curious. It wasn't curiosity that had made him ask.

It was hope. And Phil had gotten the answer he had been hoping for.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_September 17, 1987_

Phil scooped another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, glancing over at the phone, as another commercial aired on TV. His father hadn't called him, and while he missed talking to him, it at least meant Frank was staying true to his word of letting him 'wait to date'.

Or so he thought, as the phone started to ring.

He quickly hit the mute button on the remote, swallowing his food, and dashed to answer the phone.

"Hello, hello?"

"_Phil? H-hey, it's Jeremy._"

"Jeremy?" Phil smiled. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"... _Not too good, actually._"

Phil's smile immediately fell away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, only to realize he could hear the sounds of cars passing by in the background.

"_I'm at Mel's, the gas station, the one between Prather Road and Twenty-Fourth Street."_

"O-okay, I know where that is."

"_I'm sorry for calling you on your night off, but you were the first person I thought of... that was probably at home. I need you to come pick me up... I've been having a little bit of trouble with my Escort, and my engine broke down while I was driving."_

"Oh, God, y-you weren't in an accident, were you? Are you okay?"

"_No, no car accidents. I was able to get off the road before my engine failed, so i'm okay. A little shaken, I'll admit, but no physical harm done - I was able to walk to Mel's just fine._"

Phil let out a sigh of relief.

"Okay. Prather and Twenty-Fourth. I'll be right there."

"_Good, because I'm out of quarters and I think my time is almo-_"

The call cut off on the other end, and Phil hung up, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"So they towed your car to the mechanic, and you can expect a diagnostic by tomorrow afternoon?" Phil asked, looking over at Jeremy.

"Yeah," he replied, unusually quiet, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"This is, uh, kind of the opposite of last Tuesday, isn't it?" Phil asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," Jeremy replied, not looking up.

"Would you... like to listen to music?" Phil asked.

Jeremy nodded, and Phil turned up the volume. Commercials. He switched over to the next station, probably a 60s and 70s station, as Redbone played through the speakers.

"Oh... heh... I-I always loved this song," Phil commented. Jeremy smiled a little, looking out the window, his fingers tapping on the armrest to the beat of the song.

He quietly drove them to Jeremy's apartment, the song coming to an end as he pulled into the complex.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Phil asked, turning down the volume so Jeremy could hear him.

"W-We need to talk," Jeremy stated, still looking out the window.

"O-okay," Phil agreed, as he pulled into a parking space.

"Do you remember... the thing I told you last Tuesday? That you're my best friend among the four of you?" Jeremy looked over at him briefly, before turning his gaze back to his hands.

Phil nodded.

"And as my closest friend... I feel like there shouldn't be secrets between us."

Phil swallowed hard. Surely Heather or Ronaldo hadn't said anything?

"Okay," he waited for Jeremy to go on.

"A-and I know you're a really nice guy."

Phil forced himself to smile, though he was flexing and relaxing his hand in an attempt to calm himself down.

"So I'm going to confess that I... I _like _you," Jeremy took in a heavy breath. "I-I've liked you for a long time, like I-I had a little crush on you during the first few days of the summer training thing, but it kept getting worse and worse, and it's like that anxiety paradox, the longer you stay away from something, the harder it gets to go back. Well, as I started to like you more, the more I started to worry about liking you too much and getting even more hurt when I finally owned up to it, so I'm just - I just - well, now you know, and I'm sorry, I don't want this to ruin our friendship, but I really thought you should know."

Phil stared at him silently in shock.

"I... oh, man, I fucked up again, didn't I..." Jeremy's breathing was starting to speed up again. "I-I-I'm sorry, I should just-"

The clicking of an unbuckled seatbelt snapped Phil out of his stupor, and he quickly unbuckled his, giving him time to lean over and grab Jeremy's hand as he opened the door, ready to bolt.

"_Jeremy, wait!_" Phil tried to catch his breath as well. "C-close the door."

Poor Jeremy was shaking despite the gentle hold on his arm, looking back at Phil, all the anxiety evident on his face thanks to the automatic light overhead.

"I-it's okay, I promise. Just close the door," Phil repeated.

Jeremy cast one last look out the door, before looking back at Phil. He closed the door, now leaning forward in his seat, resting his forehead against his palms with a small sigh.

"Everything's okay, Jeremy..."

"No..."

"Yes, shh, it's okay. I-it's okay. I-I'm glad you told me," Phil reassured.

He gently took one of Jeremy's hands in his own, lowering it from his face. Phil swallowed hard - now _he_ was the one trembling.

"Do you, uh, remember the little bits of Italian I taught you? L-look at me, _per favore._"

He lifted his head, chocolate-colored eyes gazing back into his, and Phil was silent, the words stuck in his throat, as he slowly lowered his gaze to Jeremy's lips.

It was his turn to take the plunge.

"_Baciami_," Phil whispered, gently placing Jeremy's hand against his cheek as the lights faded out.

Jeremy's other hand shook as he reached out, but he steadied it as it came to rest on Phil's other cheek. He leaned forward and Phil did too - perhaps too quickly or too far, as they wound up bumping noses. However, much to Phil's delight, Jeremy let out a small laugh - the happiest he had been so far that night.

Phil smiled and closed his eyes, blissfully melting into the touch, as his lips met Jeremy's in a soft and slow kiss.

It was true - some things didn't need translating.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**(1) Both **_**buono**_** and **_**bene**_** can mean good in Italian, they just have different uses; **_**buono**_** is used as an adjective (**_**un amico buono**_** means "a good friend"), whereas **_**bene**_** can be used as an adverb or an interjection (like "You passed the test? Good!")**

**(2) Fun fact, this one just a personal anecdote. This is based off of a real cafe (of a similar name) I visited several times during high school.**

**(3) Another fun fact - this was actually a thing that happened during my fourth year at college.**


End file.
